


Double Eight Seven

by OceanofNoise



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: 2010 Winter Olympics, First Time, M/M, Pittsburgh Penguins, Spies & Secret Agents, Team Canada
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-16
Updated: 2013-12-16
Packaged: 2018-01-04 20:39:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1085460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OceanofNoise/pseuds/OceanofNoise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“We need you two to act as our agents. You’ll help us dissect opposing players, gather important information about the other national teams and generally help us throw the other nations off their games.”</p><p>Jonathan spoke for both of them when he so eloquently articulated “Huh?”.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Double Eight Seven

**Author's Note:**

> It would have been awesome to write this for the Sochi Olympics (maybe with the roles reversed) but it would be tempting fate, maybe... best not to risk it.

On September 9th, 2005, Sidney Crosby signed a three year entry level contract worth a modest $850,000 a year. The performance bonuses, however, were more than three times his NHL salary. Before he signed them he asked specifically what kind of performance that entailed.

“It’s in the CBA,” Mario replied with Pat Brisson looking on nervously. And Sidney, young, naïve, impressionable and with too much admiration for Mr. Lemieux, signed the contract with a flourish. He never did read the CBA, trusting his mentor’s determined nod above all.

Two years later, in mid-August, a month after he had signed a contract extension to remain a Penguin for the foreseeable future, he received a phone call in Cole Harbour. In two years, he had become the fine young specimen of the hockey’s elite, as everyone had expected. So he certainly did not expect a call from Mario announcing without a hint of compromise that “It’s time.”

Sidney nodded, not fully understanding. His summer wasn’t over yet. He had intended to start learning how to cook this off-season (as well as the last year and the year before that) but instead spent more time shooting pucks than chopping onions. “Time for training camp?”

“In a sense. I’ve mailed you your plane tickets. Please, Sidney, don’t be alarmed when you receive them. And do not, under any circumstances, tell anyone. Remember, it’s in the CBA.”

He probably should have read it but it had honestly slipped his mind again. The CBA didn’t make for very interesting reading anyway. A lot of looping back in on itself and redundant clauses that were easier to follow (or rather, have others make him follow) than make sense of.

He received the envelope the very next day and glanced at the flight times and sighed. He wasn’t fond of flights at seven of the AM but he did what he had to do. His eyes shifted at the arrival time and narrowed. His math wasn’t any better than the next guy but a mental calculation concluded that with the layover in Toronto the trip would take more than nine hours. That didn’t seem right.

The tickets were for Vancouver.

He didn’t hesitate to call Mario right away. These tickets must have been sent by mistake. He told Mario just as much.

“Remember what I said? Don’t be alarmed. You’re just fulfilling a part of the CBA.”

Again with the CBA!

He was going to read it, eventually.

He landed in Vancouver a few days later and met his agent at the luggage claim, who drove them towards their final destination.

“This is new to me too,” he said, frowning. “I don’t agree to it, I don’t think it’s fair, but it’s in the CBA so we don’t have a choice.”

“What’s in the CBA?” Sidney inquired.

Pat sighed. “I’m not sure myself, but the way they talk about it doesn’t give me much confidence.”

Sidney simply nodded. He probably should be a little scared at this point, going God knows where to do God knows what with God knows whom. But this was the NHL and he was pretty important, if he did say so himself, so he was pretty sure that everything would be fine.

The in-car nap he’d succumbed to kind of limited his ability to determine how far or long they had driven. They pulled up to a remote looking building in the middle of nowhere. The GPS’s aneurism confirmed this.

Pat walked him to the door but once Sidney was greeted by a strange man on the other side and the door was shut he noticed that he was on one side and Pat was on the other. And driving off.

“Sidney, I’m Dragon and I’ll be your instructor.”

Sidney blinked up at the hulk of a man that towered at least five inches above him. “Hi,” he squeaked. It was amazing that a professional athlete like himself still could crack his voice on one syllable words.

Dragon showed him to his room, told him to get settled and that dinner would be about an hour. Sidney nodded again, convinced that his vocal chords would have made a fool of him otherwise.

He had brought a few changes of clothing with him, which he normally wouldn’t have done if he was flying back to Pittsburgh. At least the room had some vestiges of normalcy. No television or computer though. He was still unzipping his suitcase when he heard a soft knock at the door and then it swung open and in came—

“Jon?”

The man in question—Jonathan Toews, that was—eased the door back shut with a soft click and clutched at Sidney’s arm and just like that, the relief of a familiar face was curtained with terror. “What the fuck is going on?”

Sidney didn’t know whether to be reassured or scared out of his mind that Jonathan had no idea what they were doing either. “What do you mean?” he put mildly. He was the newly appointed captain of the Pittsburgh Penguins after all. If someone had to stay calm and set an example, it would be him.

Jonathan’s grip tightened to the point where his fingernails were leaving angry indentations in his skin. “Why are we here? What is this thing in the CBA they’re talking about? Did you read the CBA?”

“Of course I read it,” Sidney replied with the sure confidence of the captain that he was. “We’re here to fulfill a part of the CBA.”

“What did the CBA say?!” Jonathan hissed in a hysterical tone that really did not bode well with his more serious countenance. Not that Sidney knew much about Jonathan. He’d played with him a bit but never against him and not at the NHL level. But already Jonathan had a reputation of being stern and robotic.

“It said… it said that… we as players…” Sidney felt his upper lip break out in a sweat and vaguely recalled with horror that one time when he hadn’t studied for a history quiz in sixth grade, gotten a C- on it and had almost cried.

Jon snarled. “You didn’t read the fucking CBA.”

“I did!” Sidney insisted, because he was a captain and had to set a good example for the younger players starting out in the NHL. “I just… sort of forgot what it said?”

His eyes must have been a dead giveaway because Jonathan crossed his arms and shook his head. “You read jack shit.”

“Whatever,” Sidney snarled back at the twisted contortion of a face that Jonathan had given him and flung his suitcase open. “It’ll be fine. Mario’s on board. Mario Lemieux.” The invocation of the hockey legend’s name should have enough to calm Jonathan’s nerves.

Apparently not. “Of course he is. He’s an owner. What the fuck.” His grip on Sidney’s arm subsided and he crawled on Sidney’s bed (he tried not to wince too much), spread out and rubbed the heels of his hands over his face.

“It’ll be fine,” Sidney simpered. He had patience for children, but not for grown men who behaved like children.

Jonathan flung himself up. “I’m going to go back to my room before Dragon sees me.”

When dinner was called, the two of them walked down together. At the table was Dragon, Steve Yzerman, and a few people he didn’t recognize. They all stood up when Sidney and Jonathan approached the table and ushered them to have a seat.

Jonathan did not mince words. “What are we doing here?”

One of the suited men who had introduced himself as Matt or Mark or something in that range replied, “We’re invoking Article 24, Section 24.9 of the current collective agreement.”

“Okay,” Sidney said calmly while Jonathan simultaneously shrieked “What the hell is that?” Then with an accusatory finger he pointed at Sidney and added “He doesn’t know what this is either.”

Another man there whose name Sidney had forgotten entirely replied back, “Article 24, Section 24.9 stipulates that certain players may be chosen to act in the best interests of their national organization. In your cases, Canada of course. You have read the CBA, right?”

“No!” Jon yelped, and in another unnecessary motion added, “Sidney hasn’t either.”

“I see. I’d advise you to do so because it pertains specifically to your duty as a player that collects performance bonuses in excess of a million dollars in three years.”

Steve nodded and smiled. “But enough about that. We’ll get into it tomorrow. For now, let’s just enjoy our dinners.” The wait staff came out with precise timing and set down their plates. “So boys, how was your summer?”

 

The evening was theirs and Sidney had intended to use it to unpack but Jonathan had barged into his room again, looking sour. “There’s no reception in this area.” He waved the phone in his hand uselessly to demonstrate his point. “I was going to have you call Mario but you can’t because there’s no reception and we’re going to die!”

“Jonathan, calm down,” Sidney instructed.

“I’m not going to calm down,” Jonathan hissed. “I left university for the NHL and this is what they make me do? No.”

“We don’t even know what they’re going to make us do,” Sidney pointed out.

“See? Thank you for finally admitting that.” He sighed and flopped back on Sidney’s bed, which made him grimace again. “Why is it only us? What are they going to do with us?”

Sidney chose to ignore that question. “Do you happen to have a copy of the CBA on you?”

Jonathan held a finger up, brought it to his chin, paused contemplatively, then left the room. Hey, that was pretty cool. Sidney bent down to his suitcase and carefully pulled out a stack of haphazardly folded polos and opened the middle drawer of the dresser.

The peace was short lived. Jonathan stomped back to the room with a three inch binder clutched at his chest. He tossed it onto Sidney’s bed with so much force that it bounced and landed on the floor.

Sidney sighed and shut the drawer with his knee. “What did it say?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t even open it yet. Pat just gave it to me in the car.” He flipped the cover open and together they went through the table of contents.

“There, page 113,” Sidney said.

It read as thus:

_24.9 The IIHF reserves the right to designate the players of their choosing for activities that are in the best interests of their national hockey organizations under the IIHF, subject to the negotiation of mutually acceptable terms with the NHL and the NHLPA. The Player(s) will report to their respective national hockey organizations when directed. It is to be understood that players may not negotiate against 24.9 in their individual contracts under any circumstances._

_(a) Players excluded from the terms of 24.9 are those who are_

_(i) Forty (40) years of age or older._

_(ii) Players under an entry level contract that are receiving fewer than one million dollars ($1,000,000) in performance bonuses through the term of the contract._

_(iii) Players on long-term disability._

“…Okay,” Sidney said after reading through it three times. “I don’t understand how this pertains to us.”

“What does that mean, ‘activities that are in the best interests of their national hockey organizations’? That could be anything!”

“I don’t know,” Sidney said tiredly. It was only 8 o’clock in the evening and the sun was still up, but with the time zone change and his early morning he wasn’t entirely focused on the matter at hand. He just wanted to wash up, crawl into bed and have sweet dreams about winning the Stanley Cup and not about what may or may not be his obligations with the CBA and told Jonathan as much.

He took it well. “Okay. I’m going to read through this and I’ll let you know if I figure anything out tomorrow.” He closed the binder and hugged it against his chest like it was his ticket to freedom.

Sidney nodded and shut the door in Jonathan’s face.

He had slept pretty well, considering the circumstances, but still woke up jet lagged and anxious about the day. They were instructed during dinner that breakfast would be at 7am but Sidney was already up at 4am. After a quick shower he got dressed and decided to go for a jog.

Besides the property there was really only the dirt road as a foot path which he figured would stop him from getting lost. It was a nice area all things considered. It seemed like miles upon miles of conifers surrounded this rather unimposing cabin in the woods. Albeit a rather grand cabin.

When he returned back at around 6 o’clock he was met with the men that he’d met at dinner the evening before. They all looked back at him with stern, disapproving expressions.

Steve was the first to smile. “Sid. Please, don’t leave the property. We need to maintain very tight security and confidentiality here. We’ll explain everything to you and Jonny after breakfast.”

“Okay,” Sidney replied dumbly and allowed himself to be ushered into the building and changed into something more presentable for breakfast. He knocked on Jonathan’s door.

“It’s Sidney,” he said after a long pause.

The door flung open. Jonathan was dressed and had the CBA binder tucked under his arm. “I think we can file a grievance. It says right here that we can do that if we don’t agree with the interpretation of the article. I think being forced to stay here is something that we both don’t agree with.”

That was really a matter of personal preference, to be honest. He wasn’t entirely sure why Jonathan was so on edge. If Mario said it was so then it must have been okay. “Let’s just have breakfast and see how that goes,” he suggested reasonably. Jonathan nodded but brought the CBA binder with him anyway.

They had a pleasant conversation about the weather and their expectations about the new NHL season. Once their breakfast plates were taken away Steve clasped his hands together on the table. “Now I’m sure you two are wondering why you’re here.”

Sidney half expected Jonathan to make a snarky comment or blurt out something about the CBA and was half disappointed that nothing came of it.

“The 2010 Winter Olympics in Vancouver are in less than three years.”

Sidney nodded obediently. He didn’t see Jonathan’s reaction.

“Do you remember what happened in Torino?” Steve didn’t even wait for either player to respond before he continued. “Canada didn’t even medal. It was humiliating.”

Sidney nodded again.

“To ensure that this doesn’t happen again, we decided that we needed to take some proactive measures. Particularly against the biggest hockey rivals to Canada.”

Sidney was getting tired of nodding so he just waited for Steve to finish his explanation.

“So we’ve decided to recruit you two to help us ensure that we don’t see a repeat performance. We want the gold in Vancouver. It’s one of our top priorities and we will do everything in our power to make that happen.”

Jonathan opened his mouth like he wanted to speak, but then seemed to decide against it.

“We need you two to act as our agents. You’ll help us dissect opposing players, gather important information about the other national teams and generally help us throw the other nations off their games.”

Jonathan spoke for both of them when he so eloquently articulated “Huh?”.

“Rest assured, Jon, there is nothing illegal about these practices.”

That much could be possible, but it didn’t sound ethical at all. “You brought us here to tell us that you want us to act as wires?”

Steve hesitated. “Well, not exactly. We are not expecting you two to get into any danger. But in the event that you do find yourself in peril, we want you two to have the skills to overcome them because we know that you two young men have a great future in the NHL and for Team Canada and we see this more as an investment for you two as anything.”

Jonathan raised his hand like he was in a classroom but spoke out of turn regardless. “What do you mean, danger? Why would we be in danger?”

“We don’t know what the other national teams have done to protect their resources, if anything. And Russia isn’t always the friendliest country, so we believe for these purposes it would be in everyone’s best interests to teach you some hand combat and gun usage skills. Among others.”

Steve stopped talking to let that sink in a little. Sidney turned to Jon, who looked back at him, aghast.

“What do you boys think?”

Sidney really didn’t know what to say and was relieved when Jonathan pulled out the grievance card as he flipped through the CBA binder frantically to reinforce his point.

“You cannot file a grievance,” Steve said. “The NHL and the NHLPA negotiated with Team Canada and this was one of the allowed activities. The negotiations and the final outcome were, of course, kept in confidence.”

“I wanna call Mario,” Sidney said, hoping that it hadn’t sounded as whiny out loud as it had in his head. Jonathan sighed and rolled his eyes.

Steve nodded. He stood up and gestured for Sidney and Jonathan to follow, which they did. Sidney felt Jonathan grip on his shoulder again. “It could be a trap!” He hissed. “We have to be careful!”

“It’s not a trap,” Steve said from the kitchen. “Come on, the phone’s in here.” He took the phone off the cradle and handed it to Sidney. Sidney accepted it gingerly and began dialing.

“Mario?” Sidney said when Mario answered the phone. “I’m, uh, going to be a… spy?”

“I suppose, if that’s what they have intended for you.”

“Tell him about the grievance process,” Jonathan shouted from over his shoulder.

“You may not file a grievance,” Mario said with a sigh. “To be honest, I was against this whole thing. Mostly because this doesn’t benefit the NHL at all and puts our best talent in… um, questionable situations. Yeah. But we had the IIHF to consider and we probably… didn’t do the best job negotiating that. But rest assured Sidney, I promise we’ll do better in 2012!”

Sidney sighed and squeezed the bridge of his nose for a good five seconds before he spoke. “So there’s nothing we can do to get out of this?”

“Unfortunately not. But I’ve discussed this at length with quite a few people. If you die—er, if you are injured, which is quite unlikely might I add, you’re fully covered by insurance.”

“I just want to be a hockey player…” Sidney whimpered, seeing any hope of escape slipping away.

“Once the Olympics are over, you’ll be all done. It’s not too bad, Sidney. I know it sounds scary but they don’t expect you to come up with that much information. They just want you to do the best that you can. You are a hockey player, Sidney. And they picked you because you are one of the best and they know that you will make the Olympic team. Just think of it as a civic duty.”

As proud as he was to be Canadian, it didn’t exactly constitute civic duty if they wanted to teach him how to maim or kill. Maybe give him a license to kill?

“No,” Mario and Steve said in unison, and Sidney blushed when he realized that he had thought the latter out loud.

“Don’t worry Sidney, you’ll be safe. They’re only giving you all this extra training in the very off chance that you’ll need it. It’s very unlikely you’ll ever put it to practice.”

Sidney sighed, thanked Mario for his time and hung up. He saw Jonathan’s face sag, mirroring his feelings precisely. Steve nodded and showed them outside where Dragon was waiting for them.

Dragon, for the most part, was a pretty gentle giant. He was patient and understanding of their wariness. Sidney didn’t agree with these practices but if this was what they expected of him then he was going to follow through.

All in all though, the instructions were pretty practical. Most of them were self-defense maneuvers, which in itself seemed honourable enough. It wasn’t a competition or anything but Sidney was picking up more quickly than Jonathan. Dragon called them excellent students but he was looking directly at Sidney when he said so, which made him beam back uncontrollably.

Jonathan scowled at him during dinner. “You’re older and you have more experience… that’s why.”

“I worked very hard on my conditioning this summer,” Sidney shot back. And he had. Although he may have consumed a few too many ice creams in that duration but it was summer! And ice cream made him happy!

He called his parents between training sessions. They sounded worried, and Sidney wasn’t the best liar.

“I’m in Vancouver. I’m discussing a promotional opportunity with Pat and a few companies here. Doesn’t look too promising though, to tell you the truth. I don’t think anything will come out of this. So since I’m here I thought I’d go fishing for a few days. I probably won’t be able to call during that time.” He held his breath and waited for one of them to respond.

“Okay honey,” his mom said softly. “Stay safe.”

“Don’t eat anything you catch,” his dad added.

“People are tired of seeing your face. That’s why things don’t look promising,” Taylor chirped, but Sidney could hear the smile in her voice.

They spent several more days honing their skills. It was like practicing drills. He was even starting to enjoy himself and he only felt slightly disappointed when Jonathan turned out to be a better shot than him with the pistol.

“No, you will not carry a gun with you at any time,” Dragon said, and Jonathan’s crestfallen face said enough about his opinion on that matter.

Evenings were spent ironing out the rough edges of their movements with one another. They played pretend, like young siblings in their parents’ basement.

“Imma motha fuckin’ kill ya!” Sidney boomed while pointing a banana stem side forward at Jonathan’s temple. Jonathan in turn elbowed him in the gut, twisted their arms and gained control of the weapon.

“Imma pump you full of… potassium!” Jonathan imitated machine gun fire while Sidney sprawled on the ground, pretending to roll away from the assault. Jonathan jumped on top of Sidney and they grappled, their hands and limbs tangling in ways that made Sidney a little nervous, especially when Jonathan straddled him into submission—

“Say hello to my little friend,” Jonathan said in a deadpan before imitating more gunfire. They both collapsed on their backs, laughing drunkenly. Moments like that almost made being halfway kidnapped and banished into the deep British Columbian wilderness worth it.

By the last scheduled day they seemed to have learned and more or less perfected everything. Although it had been fun and he felt like Jonathan had become a friend (who knew that Mr. Serious Competition could be so fun to hang out with?), he was ready to go back to civilization.

“Today,” Dragon stretched his arms and cracked his knuckles. “We will be learning the art of seduction.”

“What?” Sidney blurted, while ever articulate Jonathan simultaneously said “Huh?”

“It’s not as fun as it sounds. Two good-looking guys such as yourselves don’t need much instruction on this anyway,” Dragon said with a wink. Sidney could feel his cheeks heating up.

And most of it wasn’t. Mainly it was training how to read the opposing figure; whether their eyes, lips, stance, cues, whatever may or may not mean that he (because most of the people they would encounter would be men) would make for an ideal opportunity to seduce for personal gain.

“Uh,” Sidney stuttered after they had viewed the instructional video (which, sadly, hadn’t even the entertainment of being unintentionally funny).

“You have to be very careful,” Dragon said. “Any false move and your cover could be blown. You could be dead.”

Sidney and Jonathan nodded solemnly.

“And then Canada would be ousted from the Olympics.”

“No!” Jonathan cried, utterly outraged.

Dragon nodded gravely. “Seduction is an art form, just like the perfect pass. You have to read the person as well as the situation. You could stand to lose some, but you could also stand to gain a lot for the cause. People can have very loose tongues in their post-coital haze.”

Sidney shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“When is the best time to ask them questions? Right after sex or a little while later?” Jonathan asked with his eyes wide with attention.

“Like I said, you have to really read the person and the situation. There is no definite answer here. But you gotta be discreet. And you gotta make sure that it’s the best way to get what you need. Which is of course the right kind of information.”

Jonathan nodded attentively while Sidney crossed his arms and legs in an effort to make himself smaller.

“I bet I could seduce more people than you,” Jonathan said with a sideways glance during lunch. He wagged his eyebrows suggestively.

“Don’t make me vomit,” Sidney chirped back at his plate.

“Just watch,” he said with smirk. He pushed his plate back and left the table.

Sidney winced. He wasn’t sure how often he would need to utilize any of these skills but certainly seduction was not his forte. If that was what Jonathan wanted to use as his M.O. then that was fine. Maybe he would be more adept at that, maybe not. Sidney really didn’t care to know.

They parted ways at the end of the day, making promises to Steve and to each other to stay in contact throughout the assignment. Realistic or not, they had planned it to end with a riveting denouement where the two of them would be cornered back-to-back in an empty warehouse with angry foreigners all around them and then take each out swiftly one by one until they were the only two standing.

Jonathan flashed him one more smirk, slipped his sunglasses on and it was Mr. Serious once again.

The flight to Pittsburgh was anticlimatically uneventful, considering how strange the past few days had been. He chalked it up as good luck.

While in Mario’s car on the way to his guest house, they discussed the terms of the CBA and what Sidney had learned in the short time away from civilization. He likened it to Karate Kid, even though he was never bullied at school (teased, sure, but he was kind of a big deal even back then) and it hasn’t exactly the whole wax on wax off stuff. Sidney glanced at his phone after their conversation lulled and noticed a few missed calls and several texts. Mostly from Jonathan. They were all along the lines of:

_What are we supposed to do?_

_I’m in Chicago now. Are you in Pittsburgh yet?_

_Geez, the airport is so crowded. I hate crowds._

_My apartment is really nice. If you’re ever in town you should stop by._

_When do you think they’ll contact us?_

_Hellooooo?_

Good God, didn’t he have a girlfriend that he could pester? He wasn’t a bad looking guy. If Jonathan wanted a girlfriend (or a boyfriend if he was so inclined) then he could certainly get one. Although the same had been said about him as well (and constantly, to the point of irritation).

Once he’s settled in again and eaten dinner with the Lemieuxs he decided to check up on Jonathan.

“I’m nervous,” Jonathan confessed after the usual pleasantries. “Why me?”

Sidney felt like this was an invitation to say something captain-y. “Because… because they see potential in you. They said that they expect us to both make the Canadian Olympic team in 2010 and for an NHL rookie that’s a good amount of confidence in you.” Yeah. That sounded good. He was really learning this captain thing while going along and he felt pretty proud of the progress that he was making so far.

They went through a couple of weeks before he received a phone call from an unknown source.

“It’s me, Steve.”

After some perfunctory pleasantries and awkward discussion about the general state of the league Steve allowed a pause to linger before continuing. “I’m sure you know why I’m calling, Sidney? About your responsibilities for Team Canada?” Sidney indicated that he understood. “I’d like to move you into the right direction. I’m sure you’ve gotten quite close to Evgeni Malkin.”

“Uh, sure,” Sidney replied. The media might make it so with strategically weaved sound bites but in actuality he still had trouble understanding everything that came out of Evgeni’s mouth. That was nothing compared to what Evgeni must go through everyday.

“We don’t want to compromise your friendship with him, but if you are able to wean out some information from him about the Russian team then that would be really helpful for us.”

“Okay,” Sidney said, probably too mildly. He really wasn’t planning to do much of anything, and the tone of his voice probably implied as much.

“The quality of the information you provide us will directly affect your performance bonus. And that in turn could affect your ability to negotiate a good contract once your EL expires. And believe us, we have our own methods of coercion.”

“Okay,” Sidney repeated, hoping that the intonation in his voice was convincing enough. He still wasn’t planning to do much of anything. What were they gonna do to him? He didn’t like to speak highly of himself but even at this stage of his career he was kind of a big deal. People would notice if he was kidnapped or killed. As far as Sidney was concerned, these so-called methods of coercion were an empty threat. His teammates used them on him all the time when he walked into public bathrooms.

They contacted him a month later, asking him about his new findings.

“Russians like cake. Send them all cake and they’ll get flabby.” He just happened to be thinking about cake at the moment so… yeah. Not his best work. And he thought about cake often.

“Sidney, are you going to cooperate?” Steve grumbled, clearly unimpressed with these findings (or lack thereof).

“I am,” Sidney lied. “It’s just difficult. You know Evgeni’s English isn’t the best and he doesn’t talk much you know. Can’t blame him. Besides, Geno’s a nice guy. It wouldn’t be fair to take advantage of him.”

“Malkin is Russian. There’s no such thing as a nice Russian. And your exact purpose is to take advantage of him, anyway you can.”

“Well then you need to give me more direction because this isn’t as easy as you’re making it out to be.”

“Go back to the training, Sid. There are other ways to loosen him up.”

When he had hung up, he shrugged.

Days turned to weeks, which turned to months. And with his sprained ankle January to March became more of a throwaway than anything. He spent most of April recuperating and getting himself back into NHL form. He hadn’t given anything concrete to Steve. The latter man’s exasperation was not difficult to detect.

“Even Toews has given us a few pointers about Kane’s weaknesses. And believe me, there are a lot of them. Are you trying to fail your country? You hold the key, Sid. Don’t forget that.”

Well, now that Steve had put it like that Sidney couldn’t help but feel a bit like he had been underachieving. And he never underachieved at anything (except maybe at getting his own place… and at intimate relationships… but ain’t nobody got time for dat… seriously, relationships took too much time that he didn’t have). This was ridiculous, was he feeling guilty for not taking advantage of his teammate?

He considered exposing all this to the press. The NHL could not treat him like this. But what would he say? Would they think that he was delirious? And he really wanted to stay in the NHL. He loved hockey and he wanted to play elite hockey for as long as he could. And Mario had said that they would most definitely negotiate this article out of the CBA once it had expired. Which meant that he and Jonathan were the only two to participate in this sordid plan, which in itself felt grotesquely satisfying. So maybe for two years, this wouldn’t be so bad. How much information could they really expect out of Sidney anyway?

He had the entire summer off to just collect himself and spend some time with friends and family. He visited Colby in Erindale and it was bittersweet. He had missed Colby dearly. The trade had been so sudden. Ray had been sympathetic but stern. He basically spent his summer getting over it like a best friend who had moved away (which was more or less what had happened).

By the start of the following season Sidney was determined to take his role in the new CBA more seriously. He had texted with Jonathan on a regular basis and even visited him in Winnipeg on his way from Cole Harbour back to Pittsburgh. He had gotten a new place of his own there and Sidney, ever the gracious guest, helped the NHL rookie get settled. By the time Sidney had gotten there the house had mostly been furnished through.

“Do you think I should invite Pat up here too?” Jonathan asked as they ate take out on the kitchen island.

Sidney was still thinking about the Stanley Cup finals and was thrown off-guard by the question. “What?”

“Patrick Kane. Should I ask him to visit me here?”

“Why would you do that?” Sidney asked without thinking.

“Because I was talking to him about my new house and moving in and all that stuff and… I don’t know… he sounded like he was interested in helping me out.”

“Were you guys talking all summer?” Sidney hoped that he wasn’t drooling competitiveness off his chin.

“Yeah. Gotta keep up the contact or else it’s going to be obvious right?”

If the new Captain Serious was doing it then surely Sidney should too (and he really hoped that Jonathan wasn’t already ahead of him in understanding how to be a captain in the NHL because he still wasn’t entirely sure, no matter how many pep talks and encouraging words Mario had offered.)

He began by taking the guys up on their invitation to go drinking. Usually he declined. He wasn’t much of a drinker and he, as captain, had to set a good example of responsibility and good work habits. Staying out drinking in expensive bars in front of strangers definitely did not fulfill either criterion. But if the alcohol could help Sidney bleed out information from Evgeni then maybe once he could allow everyone to indulge a bit.

Max had gotten a VIP room and before long it was filled with hockey players and a few young women which Sidney supposed qualified as attractive.

Sidney wasn’t much of a drinker so the entire affair was awkward. If he wasn’t drinking then he was obligated to do something else. Like talk to people. He should be talking to Geno but Geno was babbling in Russian with Sergei. The latter appeared concerned and a little irritated while the former seemed despondent. Maybe this was not the right approach. Sidney couldn’t ply Geno with alcohol in the hopes that he’d blurt some useful information out if he was a depressed drunk. He had decided that he had had enough of this.

“Why don’t I take Geno home?”

Sergei raised his eyebrows. “Sure. He’s all yours.” He took his drink and walked towards the cushioned seats.

Evgeni looked sullen when Sidney helped him into his passenger seat.

“Oksana and me break up,” he slurred, his head slumping.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Sidney said. He waited for Geno to buckle his seatbelt and when it appeared that he had no intention of doing so Sidney reached over and did it himself.

“She not want to come to Pittsburgh. Can’t…” He waved his hands in the air.

“Uh huh,” Sidney nodded. He didn’t know much about this woman or Evgeni’s relationship with her. But a break up was a break up so he knew that some sympathy was in order. “Hey, but look at it this way. If she doesn’t match with your career then she’s not the one, right?”

He really wasn’t sure when he was speaking that Evgeni even understood what he was trying to convey, but the response he got back seemed to indicate so. “Very hard to find someone who will…” Evgeni sighed loudly and slumped against the passenger door window.

This much was true. Even for Sidney, who didn’t have to worry about finding someone that spoke a specific foreign language, had been single for a long, long time. It was just easier that way, and as more and more time passed he was beginning to think that the chances of finding that person who complemented him perfectly would never happen. He was beginning to come to terms with this.

“Ah, let’s not think about girls right now,” Sidney steered to his left. “Hockey’s always a good subject. So, has the Russian team given you any details about the Olympic training camp yet?”

Evgeni shrugged, still slumped over the window with his eyes closed.

“Team Canada already told us that we’re spending two weeks in Toronto in late August.” That was not true. They hadn’t told him a thing. They hadn’t even announced the invitees yet. And everyone knew how superstitious Sidney was about this kind of stuff so he was really hoping Evgeni hadn’t noticed.

“Maybe I not make team, maybe I play so bad…” is all Evgeni offered with his arms crossed over his chest.

Sidney fought the urge to sigh out loud. This really wasn’t going the way that he had intended. But that was okay. Evgeni was a teammate in need and as the team captain he had to be there to… do something. What exactly, he didn’t know. He was still pretty new at this captain stuff. “You’re an amazing player, Geno. Of course you’re gonna make the team. Maybe you’ll even be an A or a C.”

Evgeni just tightened his arms across his chest and turned his face further away from Sidney, clearly done with the conversation.

He called Jonathan up a day later to inquire about his progress.

“Patrick is such a dumbass,” Jonathan whined. “He doesn’t know anything. Or he’s really smart and is good at hiding it. Either way he’s not telling me shit.”

“Maybe he will if you seduce him,” Sidney suggested coyly.

“That’s gross,” Jonathan spat out with more venom than necessary.

“At least your target speaks proper English,” Sidney pointed out.

“That’s not always a good thing,” Jonathan countered. “I have to hang out with him and everything. I can’t imagine what it’s going to be like when he’s old enough to drink. Not that being under twenty-one stops him from getting into clubs. There’s only so many ways that I can tell Steve that Pat likes tequila or what type of girl he chases after before he realizes that I haven’t really been able to find anything else out from him.”

Sidney sighed. “Well I don’t think Evgeni legitimately knows anything. Or his mindset isn’t into it. He sounds a little homesick.”

“Maybe he’ll leave the NHL and go back to Russia,” Jonathan said, too casually for Sidney’s taste.

“No way!” he countered, probably louder than necessary. “He didn’t sneak out of Finland for nothing. And he likes it here. He likes the Penguins. He likes us!”

“Okay. Chill out.”

Really though, he was sure of it. Well, mostly sure. Although some extra assurance wouldn’t hurt, probably.

And that was why he found himself assenting to Max’s suggestion to go to the club. Again.

Geno seemed to be in better spirits this time, but after few drinks in it was like déjà vu. Gonch endured it for a few minutes before turning around for his teammates for help. Sidney took his cue, slid his (first) drink over to Geno’s side and sat down. Gonch made a hasty retreat.

Evgeni lifted his head up and scowled at Sidney. “You not my mother. Not need to watch me all the time.”

“I just wanted to talk, that’s all,” Sidney responded truthfully. “Geno, can I ask you something?”

Geno’s silence conveyed consent. So Sidney went ahead. He took a deep breath and said “Are you unhappy here?”

That question seemed to sober Geno up a little bit. He held Sidney’s gaze with his large, dark eyes. It made Sidney flinch.

“Are you?” Sidney prodded, more unnerved with every second passing and more convinced that the answer would be a yes, and—

“Why you ask, Sid?”

“Because you seem so sad now, and you must miss Russia a lot and—“

“I want to stay here, in NHL. I sad because I break up. I always miss Russia no matter what. But…” he began gesticulating with his hands and blurted some Russian that Sidney didn’t understand. “Here. I—“

“You belong here,” Sidney concluded, and fell a thorough satisfaction when Evgeni smiled widely back. “And I hope you stay with us for many years to come.”

“Thank you Captain Sid,” Evgeni said exaggeratedly, placing extra stress on Sidney’s title of the team. Sidney smiled back, relieved that his words seemed to have done the trick. He clinked their drinks together and they drank.

Over the past few months he found himself spending more time with Geno in a group, then they seemed to naturally progress to one-on-one chill times. But it felt as natural as a few laps around the rink. Geno was agreeable and easy to get along with. Sidney wasn’t one to form fast, intense friendships but his with Geno was exactly one.

Over the next few months he learned a few things about Geno, only a few which he was comfortable relaying back to Steve. He still felt like a dickhead for doing it. He knew that he was betraying a confidence that he hadn’t even done much to earn. But like Mario and Steve had said, this was his obligation.

“He has a bit of a beef with Ovi.”

“Ovechkin? His countryman?”

“Uh, yes. Apparently he didn’t just punch Geno’s agent. He also dissed his ex-girlfriend and said some other things.”

“What other things, Sidney?”

“I don’t know. He didn’t elaborate much on it.”

“Well, I think you know what you have to do.”

Sidney wasn’t sure he liked the sound of that.

“And by what you have to do, I mean you need to find out what those ‘other things’ are.”

Well, duh. He had already tried that, and told them that it was a sore subject for Evgeni so it was best to just drop it.

“Then it’s even more imperative that you find out what this deep, dark secret may be. Something exploitable.”

Sidney sighed. He knew Steve was going to say that. He could practically hear Steve salivating on the other end of the phone.

He asked Evgeni about it again to appease Steve, but any time he broached the subject Evgeni would shake his head and shut his face down. Sidney explained it to Steve as a matter of practicality. It wouldn’t be of much benefit to Hockey Canada if Evgeni stopped talking altogether. Steve relented at last. Sidney resolved to drop it as well despite his own natural curiosity. It really was not his business.

Probably anyone else would have seen it coming. Sidney wasn’t dense, per se, but when it came to matters not pertaining to hockey, he could get a little nearsighted.

They’d done a lot of hanging out and gotten to know each other better. Sidney considered it one of his captain-y duties (those of which he still wasn’t completely clear on) to take Evgeni out to the movies for several reasons: to help him improve his English, to introduce more American culture to the Russian, and because… well, he didn’t have a lot of people that he hung out with in Pittsburgh so it was nice to have another friend since Colby and… Colby left.

Sometimes they popped in a DVD at Geno’s place. Mario’s guest house was nice—nicer than some of the guys’ apartments—but he could understand why a teammate would feel weirded out visiting.

It appeared as though Geno enjoyed watching ‘Friends’, although not nearly as much as Sidney did. It was a good aid because the jokes were easy to explain and the subject matter itself was never very heavy-handed.

“How come Carol left Ross? Is she lesbian?” Evgeni asked as if it wasn’t completely obvious.

“Yeah,” Sidney said patiently. “Susan’s her partner. They get married in a later episode.”

Evgeni nodded, eyes round. “Do you think is strange?”

“Think what is strange?”

“Two women marry.”

“Not really. They can do whatever they want.”

Evgeni nodded again, his eyes still round. “Russia… not so…” he made a useless gesture with his hands.

“Open?” Sidney provided.

Evgeni nodded a third time.

“Gay marriage is legal in New York state. And all of Canada,” Sidney said, although more for the sake of conversation than anything else. “Because Canada best.” He laughed at his own joke, and was more than a little relieved when Evgeni laughed along, both longer than necessary for the sort of joke it was.

The two of them lapsed into silence again, with canned studio laughter filtering in the background. Sidney thought that it was about time that they turn their attention back to the television, especially because one of his favourite parts of the episode were coming up but he couldn’t stop staring at Evgeni. And the weird thing was, with his big round eyes Evgeni couldn’t stop staring back.

In the back of his mind Dragon’s words came to the foreground: you have to really read the person and the situation.

Well, Evgeni had just asked him about his stance on homosexual relationships and he had given his honest answer. And now the man in question was giving what looked like “come hither” eyes. See? Sidney wasn’t that dense! The question was, did he want to “come hither” and would it really benefit his cause? Did it really matter?

Had he seen it coming along the whole time?

Buying some time, Sidney opened his mouth a smidgen and licked the inside of his lip. He saw Evgeni’s interested eyes grow determined and before Sidney had time to decide whether that was a good or bad thing Evgeni had already shifted his entire body toward Sidney and closed the distance between their faces.

“D-do… you want…” Sidney could feel the soft huff of Evgeni’s breath against his mouth.

Person fit: check. Situation fit: check. Fuck it. Evgeni had made it easy enough for Sidney. He nodded just barely, closed his eyes and leaned in ever so slightly to press his lips against Evgeni’s.

The kiss was chaste and barely there because Sidney couldn’t bring himself to commit fully. Evgeni was the one to pull away and for a split second Sidney had a flash of terror, thinking that he had read the situation wrong entirely and that he would have a lot of explaining to do but Evgeni just pressed their foreheads together, breath quickening before slotting their mouth more firmly into place.

There hadn’t been much work performed by Sidney in terms of the seduction. It was the same with the kiss. Evgeni took over the moment their lips had met, grabbing Sidney’s face with his hands and taking him, desperately and hungrily. It was nice and the tongue that slipped into his mouth was hot. and Sidney figured that it wouldn’t be wrong to enjoy the moment so he returned Evgeni’s kiss just as enthusiastically.

Evgeni pushed Sidney down so they were flush parallel against the couch and Sidney spread his legs open so that they could fit together snugger as the heat in his hips yearned for contact. Neither of them were fully hard, yet, and Sidney probably shouldn’t be thinking about Evgeni’s cock or his lips or the nice solid weight of him but it was pretty difficult not to when their hips were rocking against each other like they were attached together. Prudence wouldn’t approve of how quickly they had evolved from kissing to humping but it had really been a long time (or ever, really) for Sidney since he’d been touched like this by anybody.

The episode of ‘Friends’ had long ended and ‘I’ll Be There For You’ by the Rembrants played obnoxiously on repeat in the DVD menu screen. This probably wasn’t most romantic of songs to be playing in the background but Sidney didn’t really care about that or anything really except for the way Evgeni’s hips gyrated with tight, rhythmic circles in his lap. And Sidney would be embarrassed about how quickly he got it up if not for the appreciative groans Evgeni made into his mouth.

Contrary to popular belief, Sidney was no virgin. Girls had practically thrown themselves at him since he was sixteen so, like this, obtaining a girlfriend or two had been easy. Keeping them, on the other hand, proved to be much more challenging. He didn’t have time for a relationship. He spent much more time with his teammates and preferred it that way. But he’d never had sex with any of them.

Until now.

There wasn’t much thought going into it despite his lack of experience. Everything that happened was pure body instinct. There wasn’t much else he could do but throw his head back against the cushions and moan when Evgeni tugged down his sweatpants and underwear together then swallowed him up like his cock was the last éclair on cheat day. He probably was thrusting too much because Evgeni pinned down his hips with his hands until Sidney came, hard and fast.

He still wasn’t thinking much in his post-coital haze when Evgeni gave Sidney’s palm a slow, wet lick (which actually felt pretty nice by itself, warm and moist, despite the weirdness of everything), then guided it down between Evgeni’s open legs. He didn’t need Evgeni to lead anymore. He jerked Evgeni off until Evgeni shot his wad in Sidney’s hand. He watched it ooze onto his wrist with odd fascination.

He really wanted to clean himself up because he had Evgeni’s spunk on his arm and some of his own on his stomach too, but the dead weight of Evgeni’s head was on his shoulder as the contractions at his chest began to slow down against Sidney’s ribs.

By then Sidney’s brain had had a chance to reboot and was a few minutes ahead of Evgeni’s. He remembered again, what Dragon had said. He didn’t wait for Evgeni to catch up. “Geno?”

“Hmm?” Evgeni’s index finger drew light circles against Sidney’s bare hip.

“What did Alex say to you that made you so mad?”

Jonathan was right. Sex really did make a man’s lips looser, blowjob notwithstanding. “This.” Sidney waited for further elaboration and was rewarded. “Alex found out that… I like men too. He say mean things.”

“Oh,” Sidney blurted, involuntarily, before he could allow that newfound information sink in.

He supposed that it made sense that Evgeni was into guys if he knew how to give head like it was second nature. And why it had been so easy to seduce him. And oh shit what if Evgeni was the type of guy who frequented public bathrooms and had some sort of disease—

“I never… with guy before.”

Well, that declaration honestly jumpstarted Sidney more than the thought of Evgeni soliciting anonymous gay sex. He sat up and looked down at Evgeni, who still looked adorably fucked. “Seriously?”

The blush when Evgeni nodded was attractive, Sidney had to admit, and probably induced a bit of his own. “Is dangerous. Especially in Russia. And don’t want any guy. Want right one.”

Sidney vaguely felt triumphant and like a pile of freshly expelled excrement all at once, if that was possible. Evgeni moved his fingers from Sidney’s hip to the hand that wasn’t covered in cum and tugged gently at his thumb. It was an oddly sweet gesture that brought a smile to both their expressions and pushed the previous, more ominous thought out of Sidney’s head for the meantime.

Despite Evgeni’s insistence that Sidney stay over for the night (and oh, wasn’t the invitation hard to turn down) Sidney went home. He pointed out that it was best to not arouse any suspicion from anyone that could track them because paparazzi (oh sorry, members of the media) were relentless and always a step ahead. Besides, he didn’t want to overdo the sex thing, lest it become something that he became accustomed to. Once the shit hit the fan (publicly, privately, it didn’t matter) he was going to go back to his normal, sexless life again. Plus the idea of navigating post-sex interaction with anyone, much less a teammate, was enough to set his social anxiety levels up a few levels.

On the car ride back to Mario’s the events in the past hour finally settled into his bones and he really was lucky that he didn’t end up swerving onto the wrong side of the road.

He’d kissed his teammate. He’d gotten head from his teammate. He jerked his teammate off. His teammate basically had admitted that he liked him. That was a lot to take in at once. Although to be fair, Evgeni was probably the one who had done the seducing, not the other way around. The act of seduction probably took some effort and intent and Sidney had engaged in neither.

And what sort of freaked him out was that it didn’t. In fact, he felt a sort of… anxiousness for the next morning skate. He wanted to see Evgeni again. In fact, he wanted to turn the car right around and sneak into Evgeni’s bed and wrap his arms around his waist and fall asleep against the warmth of another body. In his mind they would just enjoy one another’s presence without talking and smile at each other in the morning, knowingly, awkwardly but still happily. Was that weird? Sidney most certainly thought so, mainly because he hadn’t thought about anything of that kind just a day ago and now the thought wouldn’t leave his mind no matter how much he thought about the Flyers or the kind of torture Mike Kadar would have in store for them tomorrow. He smiled to himself anyway.

The next morning at practice Evgeni had at least the social grace to, in his fumbling English, ask Sidney if he wanted to have dinner with him. Working backwards in the courtship ritual, Sidney couldn’t help observe, but he declined because he was scheduled to informally discuss his progress with Mario after dinner. Plus Nathalie was making brownies for dessert and although he really liked the Lemieux kids he would sell every one of them for a pan of those brownies to himself.

Evgeni nodded, looking a bit hurt and confused.

“Another time,” Sidney promised, and the expression on Evgeni’s face changed to something more hopeful.

“I cook,” he offered innocently. Sidney’s face flushed for liking the sound of that.

Sidney didn’t like to eat or drink too much before bedtime but Mario had a cup of tea with him and Sidney felt weird with nothing in his hands so he took to one too when Mario asked him “Is there any new progress? Are you alright?”

Last time they had had this discussion Sidney had bemoaned to him how futile the entire project was and suggested that they should find someone more charismatic to do this. This time he had more to share. “Um, I may have seduced Geno last night.” He tried to make himself sound tentative and bashful but he was actually pretty damn proud of his accomplishment.

Mario almost spilled his tea. “You’re not serious.”

Sidney pulled down the collar of his team-issued zip-up pullover to reveal one of several hickeys that Evgeni had left.

“How on earth did you manage to do that?”

That was a good question. He wasn’t sure of that himself but pointed out the frequency of their outings together and suggested that his natural charms had done Evgeni in. He ignored the way that Mario’s eyes crinkled in bemusement. To that he added sharply that Evgeni wanted to cook him dinner and then give it to him good afterwards. Well, he omitted the giving it to him good part but it was still heavily implied.

“I know this goes without saying Sidney, but you really have to be careful. Not just with your life or with the media, but with yourself too. I don’t want you to have your heart broken or to ruin your relationship with Geno because of this.”

He had thought of that, in passing, but he hadn’t wanted to dwell on it too much. Mario was alluding to the fact that Sidney was going to take advantage of Evgeni naiveté and he didn’t like the idea of doing so one bit.

“I could make up some fake information,” Sidney suggested, out loud and involuntarily.

But Mario perked up at the idea. “As long as it seems legitimate.”

They left the meeting on those grounds. Mario warned him again to stay vigilant and then Sidney bounded off to the guest house to think about things he could feed to Steve regarding the Russian team.

But mostly he thought about the way Evgeni’s firm body felt on top of his and how his hands and his mouth and his hips moved and how vulnerable and desperate he looked when he touched Sidney for the first time and the Olympics kind of flew right out of his head and he began to wish that he had taken up Evgeni on that offer because he wouldn’t just be thinking about all that stuff that night. It made his blood run south but he refused to jerk off to the idea so that the next time he and Evgeni met up it would be all the more satisfying.

And it was. Two nights later (the night after a home game, which they’d won) Sidney found himself pressed into Evgeni’s bed, digging his fingernails into Evgeni’s back and arching upwards while Evgeni had his tongue in Sidney’s mouth his hand on both their cocks.

Dinner was good, but dessert was divine. Which was saying a lot, because Sidney really liked whatever unpronounceable dish that Evgeni had made for them.

When he woke up the next morning with Evgeni’s arm heavy on his hip he quietly slipped into the master suite bathroom and had a silent freak out.

What the fuck was he doing? Last night had basically qualified as a date. And all their little get-togethers could be seen as mating preparations. Was he dating Evgeni Malkin? As if that made any difference to the public compared to sleeping with him. He was doing that too. What if someone found out and the media caught wind? There was fucking shit up and there was fucking shit up and he was definitely doing the latter here. Because playing professional hockey was Sidney’s dream and he had never envisioned that things like a Cold War renaissance, covert nationalistic assignments, and falling into bed with his alternate captain would factor into the equation.

What would his parents think?!

Okay, damage control. He’d make breakfast. He could scramble eggs and toast bread. Maybe fry up some bacon. Damnit where were his clothes?

He was still digging through Evgeni’s fridge (there were some really weird things inside… by which Sidney meant a lot of packaged foods with foreign writing on them) when he felt a hand skim his back. He snapped back on reflex.

Evgeni smiled at him, unoffended. “Morning Sid.”

He liked the way that Evgeni’s bed hair stuck up. “Uh, morning,” he smiled back nervously and saw Evgeni’s face falter.

“Wrong? Something?” Evgeni asked curiously.

Many things, but Sidney was bent on having breakfast first and told Evgeni that they could discuss it after a full stomach. Evgeni agreed and helped him locate the eggs and bacon.

Sidney wasn’t the social train wreck that people may have thought. He was the captain of a professional sports franchise and people didn’t become captain without understanding how to handle and influence his fellow man.

The conversation at breakfast was kept neutral. Sidney talked about the way they could improve their power play against Toronto and how their opponent’s recent injuries messed up the lines enough for them to take advantage.

It appeared though, to Sidney’s slight annoyance, that this topic of conversation was not fetching enough for Evgeni because once he had finished off his plate he tried to engage in a game of footsie instead.

“Geno—“

“Really like you, Sid,” he said with a shy smile.

Well he definitely liked Evgeni’s hockey, most of the time (although he did take a few undisciplined penalties and probably as captain Sidney should address them without sounding like he was calling Evgeni out). Off the ice… well, he was agreeable and funny and kind of cute and was good at making Sidney come. So sure, he liked Evgeni too. Maybe even really liked him.

“We have to be very careful,” Sidney said sternly, and Evgeni’s expression changed from playful to severe as he nodded. “It’s not just the fact that we’re two professional athletes and public figures. It’s also the fact that I’m your captain and… you know.”

Evgeni nodded but his eyes said something else. “You like us,” he said. He winced and tried again. “You good captain. Good to us? Not… higher?”

Sidney supposed that that qualified as an off-handed compliment. “Yeah, but you know. It’s dangerous.”

“I like you Sid. I think you worth the danger,” he smiled again, shyly and something stirred inside Sidney that he couldn’t explain and could do no more than smile back and let Evgeni’s ankle hook onto his.

Well, mission accomplished. Awkward discussion complete. And he was still in line to sleep with Evgeni again, so all in all it was a successful exchange they had. Truth be told, he really liked sleeping with Evgeni. It was something interesting about him, even if he had to hide it from everyone except Mario. He was still deciding whether to tell Steve. And Jonathan. In all likelihood he was one up on his partner in sleuthing.

Sidney and Jonathan had met up for lunch when the team was in Chicago.

“Um, not really,” Sidney mumbled into his seafood pasta when Jonathan had asked him if he’d managed a breakthrough.

“Yeah, me neither,” Jonathan said in kind. They spent the rest of their meal discussing their workout regiments.

When it came time for the All Star game he was battling yet another injury (the groin this time, but thankfully no one besides Mario knew about him and Evgeni or he probably would have had to endure a whole slew of innuendo jokes). He came out for some of the festivities anyway.

“Sidney!” Alexander Ovechkin galloped toward him and embraced him tightly as if they were in the type of relationship where hugs were appropriate. “How have you been? It is so good to see you!”

“I’m good thanks,” Sidney managed while he attempted to extricate himself from Alex’s death grip.

“It’s a shame that we don’t know one another better. Let me buy you lunch! Will you be watching the game afterwards?”

No, of course not. He just came to Montreal to suck some cock. Actually that wasn’t a complete lie. He was still getting the hang of it (among other things, like having things put into places that usually had things come out of them), both in theory and practice, so yeah if the All-Star weekend afforded him an excuse to spend some time with Geno then who was he to turn that down?

Routines were still routines, injuries and all. He still liked to take his lunch at 12pm so that he could have ample time to digest before his 2pm nap. Alex was more than happy to accommodate Sidney and even allowed him to pick the venue. He selected a restaurant that he had gone to with his father a few times when he was younger.

They talked about nothing really, until the subject of Geno had been brought up. In non-sequitor, if Sidney was being honest.

“And how are you and Zhenya getting along?”

“Fine,” Sidney stuffed a mouthful of ravioli to distract himself from the blush he felt creeping up his neck. “We play well together,” he added to appease the amused look on Alex’s face.

“Yes, you do, don’t you? He tells me that you spend a lot of time together. He talks about you all the time.”

Sidney stopped in mid-chew. Surely Geno hadn’t told Ovechkin, of all people, about their clandestine relationship. Whatever beef the two of them had seemed to have dissipated, if the way they had behaved together the afternoon before was any indication. He had been glad for them both, up until this point.

Sidney swallowed. “Uh, yeah. We hang out. We’re good friends.” He tried not to read too much into Geno talking about him all the time part.

Alex smiled, easy and foreboding. “You should be careful, Sidney. Zhenya isn’t always what he seems.”

When he went back to his hotel for his afternoon nap he had another freakout.

Did Alex’s warning hold any grain of truth? It could explain why Evgeni had been so quick to… you know, do the sex stuff? Was Evgeni a mole for the Russian international team? He was too friendly to be Russian. So was Ovi. They were both in on it! It all made perfect sense! Russia would be crazy not to exploit Evgeni, given his close proximity to the many Canadian talents on the Penguins team! Oh dear God, had he blurted anything that he shouldn’t have while Evgeni was… doing the sex stuff?

They couldn’t be doing this. How had he allowed this to happen?! It wouldn’t be fair to put all the blame on that stupid training session back in August. He blamed Evgeni’s eyes and mouth and the stupid, hypnotic way that his hips moved. Maybe his seduction training had been more thorough than Sidney’s because it had worked impeccably.

He couldn’t talk to Jonathan about it. He would just laugh at Sidney. He didn’t want to tell Steve. Steve would kill him. And if he suggested this to Mario then his reputation as a competent seducer would go down the shitter. Seducing people wasn’t something that he cared to improve on but he didn’t want anyone to think that he had no skill at all. For all the weirdness surrounding him, he liked it when people liked him (platonically and professionally, anyway).

Damnit how could he have been so blind?!

Before he went down for his afternoon nap at precisely 2pm he got a text from Evgeni. He steeled himself.

_meet u after nap? )))))))_

His grip on his phone tightened. He did not like to be made the fool. Sidney pushed his phone away and buried himself in the blankets.

The thing was, he liked spending time with Evgeni. He was easygoing and pretty non-douchey for a young star forward. Even with the language barrier he managed to make funny jokes. And as much as it embarrassed him to admit, sex with Evgeni felt… right. It was so Sidney Crosby to develop a sexual relationship with his hockey teammate. It probably made perfect sense, which infuriated him more. Only a teammate would understand all the highs and lows of his lifestyle. Only a teammate could be a fitting companion.

Shit.

No, that was all beside the point. Evgeni must have known this and exploited it. That fucker.

Sidney did not meet Evgeni after his nap. In fact, he didn’t see him until the pre-game press (which they had still asked him to participate in even though he wasn’t even dressing). He knew that Evgeni was looking in his direction and trying to catch his attention but Sidney refused to look back until he knew what to do about it.

After the game was done, after all the media obligations were over, he felt a hand on his elbow. He felt his cheeks heat up but he refused to turn around.

Evgeni did it for him, pulling him close and taking Sidney by the shoulders so that they were face to face. “Sid? Why you not answer my text? Why you not talk?” He looked angry and hurt.

Well of course he looked mad. It was all part of the act. Evgeni may have thought that he was a good actor, but Sidney was smarter than that.

He could acknowledge the fact that he was being an asshole. Just a tiny bit. But he did not like to be made a fool. It didn’t matter that Evgeni had never asked him anything about his Olympic expectations or really talk much about hockey unless prompted by Sidney (which was pretty often, he had to admit). The act of seducing him in the first place must have been an attempt to throw him off his game. Why else would Evgeni have been so easy for Sidney?

“Because we shouldn’t be doing this,” Sidney spat out, coarser than he had intended. The wounded expression looked pretty genuine. Just upset that his plan had been foiled, Sidney was sure.

“I… I… no understand,” Evgeni said softly.

“Evgeni, I am your captain, and I think that this is a bad idea. What if people found out? You haven’t told anyone have you?” He ignored the voice in the back of his head screaming “hypocrite!”.

Evgeni ducked his head down, the picture of guilt. “Sasha find out.”

Sidney crossed his arms over his chest tightly as to quell the urge to punch Evgeni in the face. Of course Ovi knew.

“Accident!” Evgeni squawked off Sidney’s enraged expression. Of course it was an accident. This entire fucking situation was a complete train wreck.

“I don’t fucking care. We’re teammates. That’s it.” He broke away from Evgeni’s desperate gaze and turned his back to Evgeni to leave.

“Sid! Sid—what!” Evgeni reached for Sidney, but Sidney was stronger and twisted out of Evgeni’s grip.

“That’s all I have to say.” He stomped out of the locker room.

Sidney supposed that, rationally, he had no reason to be angry with Evgeni. After all, he had been doing to Evgeni what Evgeni had been doing to him. He thought Evgeni liked him. He said he liked Sidney! Sidney wasn’t the one that had offered it first. It was a cheap shot, that’s what it was. What Evgeni was had done was toy with his feelings. All Sidney had done was ask him some questions while Evgeni was inebriated or otherwise incapacitated and then relay the answers in secret to someone who wanted to see Evgeni and his country go down.

Whatever. Sidney had been betrayed and he was going to make Evgeni suffer.

The next time Steve called him Sidney told him everything.

“Sidney! How did you discover all this information, and in such short time?”

Well, all the pertinent information. He left out a few details. “I can be very persuasive,” he’d said. He’d heard that line from somewhere and had always wanted to use it.

“Did you sleep with him?”

“…Um, no?”

Steve’s quick acceptance of Sidney answer didn’t wound his ego in the least.

Once he had gotten off the phone with Steve and settled in to watch some mindless television, he had another freak out.

He’d just erred again, hadn’t he? Forget about the fact that alienating Evgeni at this point would guarantee that his well of information would dry up. Evgeni was his teammate and a good source of his livelihood. Maybe he hadn’t thought it through. Okay maybe at all.

He had already booked a flight back to Pittsburgh between his spat with Evgeni and his latest revelation so he figured that he may has well get back to Mario’s and seek his advice in person. A bit of distance from Evgeni would serve them both some good. Evgeni had not attempted any contact with Sidney since their row and it annoyed him in a way that he couldn’t really explain.

Sidney made it back to Mario’s place just in time for dinner. Nathalie’s roast beef kept his mind off his colossal professional and personal gaffe for the time being until Mario suggested that they take some evening tea in his office.

“Evgeni is a spy too,” he yelped when Mario gave him the most disapproving look he had ever gotten after he had explained what had happened in Montreal.

“Sidney, you don’t know that for sure.”

“Of course he’s a spy. It’s the perfect opportunity for him. Plus he’s charming and kind of cute when he wants to be. There couldn’t be a better candidate. How didn’t I see this before?”

“Maybe you were blind with love,” Mario’s eyes crinkled with laughter, which caused Sidney’s to narrow in a scowl.

“I am not in love with Evgeni Malkin,” he declared. “I’m smarter than that.”

“All right Sid. But he’s still your teammate and you will have to fix this somehow.”

Sidney looked up at Mario. He was like a second father to him and he always had the right answers. “What should I do?”

“I dunno,” was Mario’s less than sage reply. “It’s your relationship with Geno. Only you can figure it out.”

Well fuck.

He spent a restless night tossing and turning. Several scenarios presented themselves to him. He could confess of his espionage work to Evgeni, hope that Evgeni reciprocated the gesture and they could go back to fucking each other’s brains out. He could publically denounce the clause and risk Team Canada’s eligibility into the Vancouver Olympics. Or he could go on playing pretend and tell Evgeni that he had just been a little over emotional but after thinking through things he realized that Geno was far too important to him to let go just because he was scared.

Yeah. That would work. Especially since it also included the fucking each other’s brains out free of charge.

Sidney realized, as he drove towards Evgeni’s house to put his plan into action, that he could overlook the part where Evgeni was a spy for the Russian national team much like he was for his respective country. If anything, it drew more sympathy out of Sidney because it meant that they were more alike. Probably, deep down, Evgeni was just as scared about the whole thing as he was. Lying was a difficult thing for Sidney to do because he hadn’t had much use for it in his life. Even as a child he kept to a very disciplined diet and had seldom done things that his parents had disapproved of (and despite what some of his peers had said, that had not made him “boring”).

There wasn’t much to it. He was a bundle of nerves going up Evgeni steps and the latter didn’t seem very enthusiastic about his guest at first but once Sidney had fumbled his way through his apology Evgeni welcomed him back with open arms (and not long after, open legs).

As Sidney laid there with Evgeni’s nose pressed into his hair and the even, shallow breaths huffing at his neck he wondered whether Ovi was in on this too. He knew about it, there was no contesting that. Maybe his mission was to break Mike Green. The idea made his smile. The whole thing was ridiculous, but with Evgeni’s bare skin warm at his backside, he was minding less and less.

It was good timing that he got most of that worry off his chest too, because they had managed to make the playoffs again that year and it looked like they were going deep again. They would not let this go again, not on his watch.

“Ovi is allergic to pepper.”

Sidney heard Steve sigh on the other end of the phone. “That’s all you got?”

“That’s good information,” he insisted. It was! All he had to do was mention it to a source, any source. If somebody who couldn’t be traced back to Sidney so happened to add pepper to one of Ovi’s pregame meals then it was game over for the Russian team.

“I think you’re losing focus, Sid. Try focusing on their physical weaknesses. Or maybe their team dynamics. How do Ovi and Malkin get along now?”

“They get along great,” Sidney replied, unfiltered and unthinking. “After Ovi apologized to Geno for calling him a f—“

Sidney gasped, his heart thumping. The receiver in his hand cricked a little under the intensity of his grip.

“Sidney?”

“…Yes?”

“What happened between Ovi and Malkin?”

“Um…” his mind was racing. He had to salvage this before it was too late. “Ovi called Geno a… fucking… traitor. To the KHL. To his city. And you know how touchy Geno is with that subject. It was really uncool of Ovi to say those things. But he apologized and now they couldn’t be better friends.”

That seemed to suffice for Steve, much to Sidney’s relief. The subject then shifted to the Penguins Stanley Cup run.

“I understand the position you’re in Sidney, and I understand if you want to put your work for us aside for the time being in order to concentrate on your team. Just don’t forget your ultimate objective.”

“…To win the Stanley Cup and the Olympic gold medal?”

“No! To find out more juicy tidbits on Russian players! For fuck’s sake Sidney, haven’t you been paying attention?!”

 

Accomplishing box one on his to-do list was basically the best moment of his entire life. It vindicated all his hard work, all his team’s hard work. It made everything worth it in the end.

Well, almost everything.

Sidney tried not to spend too many nights over at Evgeni’s, even though he knew that Mario likely didn’t mind. But it just didn’t seem prudent and if Sidney knew anything in his life (besides hockey), it was prudence. It all made it worth it on the nights that he did spend at Evgeni’s, grabbing and clawing and touching each other like they were making up for lost time.

Anyway, winning Lord Stanley seemed like a good excuse, after they had had a modest celebration with the team before retiring at Evgeni’s place to do their own one-on-one celebrating. He was already making his lunch right on schedule when he received a call from Steve.

“Hello Sidney, did you just wake up?”

“No, why?” was his automatic expression.

“Oh.”

“What?”

“Nothing. It’s just… very responsible of you. Very captain-y.”

Sidney was pretty sure Steve was making a veiled insult but he took it as a high compliment anyway. ‘Very captain-y’, ka-ching.

They began with a few words of congratulations and some stories about their experiences with winning and whatnot. Finally Steve got into the meat of his call.

“What are you plans regarding Malkin during the off-season? I think it’s important to maintain a good personal connection with your target.”

As if on cue Geno sauntered into the kitchen, stretching the late night drinking out of his shoulders and instinctively reached toward Sidney, catching him by the shoulder.

“I totally agree,” he said as Geno let his lips ghost against Sidney’s neck, which made him miss the next few sentences of Steve’s monologue. Geno’s hands began to trail lower but Sidney cut him off just in time, mouthing ‘It’s my dad’. It had the desired effect on Geno, who retracted his arm and tiptoed to the side with his finger pressed against his lips.

Sidney decided then to cut the conversation short. “Okay, gotcha. I’ll do that.”

“What are you talking about—“

“Gotta go dad. Love you too, I’ll see you in a few weeks!”

“But—“

He snapped his clamshell cellphone shut and promptly made his way back into Geno’s embrace.

He received a slew of other calls, including one from his actual dad from his hotel room in Pittsburgh, his sister, various friends and family, a few current and former NHL players, and Jonathan.

“Congrats, man.”

“Thanks.”

There was an awkward pause.

“So, uh, how are you and Malkin?”

Sidney almost dropped his phone in surprise. Why hadn’t he anticipated that question in advance? Bad planning on his part? No, captains were good planners. The question was just a complete non-sequitor. “Um, good. You know, uh, we get along well and we’re playing well together.”

“I thought the point of this was to make him shit the pan?”

“Not until the Olympics,” Sidney snapped with more venom than necessary.

“All right.” Eventually their conversation turned into the much safer lane of line combinations and starting goaltenders for Vancouver.

Both Sidney and Geno delayed leaving Pittsburgh as much as they could, as did the rest of the team. The Cup parade was a good excuse to stay. Geno introduced Sidney to his parents in a manner that would probably arouse suspicion to any cautious parent but they both smiled and laughed and hugged him with the same brand of Malkin enthusiasm that Sidney and come to know.

“I have go back to Russia in two days,” Geno said later, brushing his fingers against the smooth side of Sidney’s arm absentmindedly.

“Do you have to? Are the tickets already booked?”

Geno nodded, his sleepy eyes closing. “Have to do stuff with my house there.”

Sidney sighed. He was leaving for Santa Monica in less than a week.

“Come visit me in Russia? I show you around? Moscow nice.”

He almost blurted yes without thinking because why the hell not, right? He’s travelled all over the world so Russia wouldn’t be a big problem. He liked to see new things and make the most of the long, hockey-less off-season (and by hockey-less, he literally meant hockey but less because yes, Sidney Crosby still played hockey in 30C+ temperatures, just not nearly as often). Plus if it meant getting more mind-blowing sex then who was he to really argue?

But Russian soil, ooh. That was touchy. He wondered, briefly, how good an actor Geno really was and whether Sidney was being set up for his demise. Russian thugs in crisp suits punching him to a bloody pulp while tied to a chair in an abandoned warehouse (no Sidney did not watch too many gangster movies, thanks for asking). He tried his best to push that thought out of his head as quickly as possible.

Yet he could not bring himself to accept Geno’s invitation. It pained him to say no, and the look in Geno’s eyes seemed genuinely disappointed (because he would miss Sidney, because Sidney wasn’t falling into the trap, hard to say) and if Sidney was being perfectly honest, Sidney was too.

 

The most embarrassing thing about falling in love with Evgeni Malkin was not the fact that his beloved was a man, or a teammate, or even possibly his adversary. No.

It was the fact that his little sister realized it before he had.

It was the entire week between Geno’s birthday and his own. They talked on the phone several times a week, but the conversation he had with Geno on his birthday was the most bittersweet. It pained him to be halfway across the country when all he wanted was to be there to wish him a happy birthday in person.

“You seem so sad for someone who’s won a Stanley Cup,” Taylor observed without restraint as they ate dinner together as a family. They did this quite often during the summer because although Sidney had his own place and could cook enough to keep himself alive (assuming he could live off the same two dishes without losing his sanity), it felt so much better to be around loved ones.

“Oh?” Dad looked up from his mashed potatoes and studied Sidney curiously.

“Why do you say that?” was Sidney’s genuine curiosity. He’d been excellent at concealing his emotions and had been since he was Taylor’s age.

Taylor tilted his head and studied Sidney critically and he couldn’t help but blush as his little sister took him apart with her eyes. They turned delighted. “Do you have a girlfriend?”

He almost choked on his chicken. “What?!” It wasn’t until his parents regarded him with incredulity that he had said a clarifying “No!”

“He’s lying,” Taylor determined gleefully. “You have that look. You know that look? Of someone who misses his girlfriend.”

“I don’t have a girlfriend!” Sidney insisted.

Mom looked like she wanted to say something but Taylor barreled on. “Don’t lie Sid. I’ve seen that look on other people. And then you’ll get this other look, this happy one just out of nowhere. It’s so obvious that you’re in love.”

Sidney sputtered a few times, too shocked to formulate a coherent sentence.

“Of course he’s happy,” Dad said without any measure of humour. “He just won the Stanley Cup. And he misses the ice, so that makes him sad.”

“Yeah!” Sidney shouted.

Mom still looked like she wanted to say something but Taylor waved her hand over her plate and said in a sing-song voice “I think there’s something that he’s not telling us…”

“I would tell you guys if I had a girlfriend, okay?!” Sidney snapped. “Like Dad said, I’m happy that I won the Cup. And I miss skating with the guys.” Dad nodded contently from his seat. “That’s all.”

Taylor was still grinning. “You’re probably dating something that you’re too ashamed to tell us. Like Paris Hilton or something.”

That caused the remainder of the table to groan out loud.

“Taylor, that’s enough,” Mom finally said. Taylor scooped some rice with her fork and inserted it into her open mouth to appease her for the moment but the subject was clearly too much for her to let go forever.

Sidney escaped home the moment he could and buried his face in his hands. He was no dummy, but Taylor definitely inherited more of the brains genes between the two of them.

The amount of silent freak-outs he had been experiencing over the past few months was starting to silently freak him out but damnit he was allowed to have as many of them as he wanted if he realized that he had actually fallen in love with the person that he was supposed to plot the demise of (for all of two weeks… for a few games… yeah). Who was a teammate. Who was a man. Who lived halfway around the world with a smile that made his knees wobble and a… well, it was good. Very good.

His birthday was good (not very good), if not frantic and full of too many people. He liked his birthdays to be pretty low-key. Parading around his hometown with the most coveted trophy in Canada after flying in via helicopter definitely was not low-key.

Dinner at least was pretty chill. His parents, sister, a few close friends and family members joined them for a barbeque. Max was there as well and didn’t hit on any of his female cousins (or aunts, thank God), which was surprisingly well-behaved for him.

After he’d settled back home for the night, he noticed several unanswered texts and some emails. One of them was from Geno.

_Sid! You busy I know! Everybody want see you on birthday! Me too! ((((((( But I want know when you leave Cole Harbour for NHL media tour! I want come North America earlier, help time zone, maybe visit you first? What you think? )))))))))))_

His birthday couldn’t have ended on a better note than that (well, save for Geno’s physical presence, and Sidney really did mean physical, and he wasn’t ashamed to admit that he was aching for it; for Geno).

They had the Olympic camp in late August. It was a bit of a blur of bodies and ice for Sidney. At the minimum it was nice to see some familiar faces, as well as fraternize with some newer ones. Even Mike Richards and Jeff Carter were all smiles and good humour. Sidney kept a close watch on them throughout the camp. There was definitely something going on between them. Maybe.

He and Jonny had talked about it earlier and requested to be paired as roommates and of course, their request was granted. He thought about telling him about Geno because it really was an important development, but when the topic came up at all Jonny seemed closed off and eager to change the subject. Sidney wasn’t particularly inclined to discuss it either so he didn’t mind when their conversation shifted to something much safer, which was, of course, hockey.

“Jonny?” Sidney called into the dark.

“What, Sid?”

He pulled the cover over his head in agony before blurting “Nothing.”

Still, he thrummed desperately, to touch, to tell, at this point they seemed one and the same.

But he dared not. There was just too much at stake. He was pretty sure that Evgeni felt the exact same way.

 

“You told them?!” Sidney shrieked, a week later, almost swerving into the guard rail of the highway.

“No need worry, Sid. They—not—“ Geno was stammering, likely taken off-guard by Sidney’s reaction to the news that he had disclosed their relationship to his family. And apparently Oksana as well (although probably for practical reasons, but Sidney was still appalled).

Sidney narrowed his eyes at Geno while the latter continued to explain himself in unintelligible English. Was this part of the plan all along? It was hard to tell. He had the sinking suspicion that he was being made a fool. Again.

After several attempts, Evgeni articulated “You important to me, Sid. Hard not to tell other people. Is okay Sid. Everyone happy for me. For us.” He looked like he wanted to reach out and touch Sidney but decided against it.

Sidney sighed, feeling the knots in his stomach ease a little. It was hard to be mad at Evgeni. He just did everything… right. “How did everyone react?”

“Not believe me at first. Especially Oksana. Say you too pretty for me.” Sidney caught the amused smile on Evgeni’s face and any dissipating anger fizzled out into the late August haze. “But they all happy for me. Say if I happy then they happy too. Maybe still not believe me.”

Sidney made a noise of acknowledgement, wondering if they knew that their son may or may not be a Russian spy and whether or not their happiness came from the fact that he may or may not have achieved one of the goals set out for him. It didn’t sound as crazy in his head.

“You not tell anyone?” Evgeni asked, trying to sound casual but from the softness in his voice, likely knew the answer.

“You understand, right?”

“Yes.” But from the way his mouth formed a thin line across his face, Sidney knew that Evgeni didn’t. At least, not completely.

The following week was spent eating, shooting pucks, playing some tennis, training with Andy and getting reacquainted with each other’s bodies. Usually more than once a day. Mainly focusing on specific parts of the body. Sidney missed Geno dearly, and having him back just felt so. Fucking. Good. At first he enjoyed feeling like an interesting “adult” doing things that his mother probably wouldn’t approve of (namely harbouring a tall dark Russian in his home and touching him in all his special areas because that was a big no-no Siddy-Winky!). After that novelty wore off he just enjoyed the splendour of having Geno’s company around.

If it was just a farce, well, Sidney didn’t want to think about that and pushed it out of his head instead. He was still young, he could afford to make mistakes. He could be stupidly in love and not give a fuck for once.

 

“How was your summer, Sidney? Jonathan? You both look quite tan,” were Steve’s opening remarks as they sat in their private booths in some fancy shmanchy restaurant in NYC. Sidney tugged on his silk tie gently in an effort to loosen it just a smidgen.

“It was good,” Jonathan said brightly. “Uh, yeah. It was good.” He smiled widely but didn’t elaborate.

“Yeah, uh, same,” Sidney replied.

Steve smiled back at them. “That’s good to hear. I hope it’s been restful and full of family and friends because we’ve got a full season in front of us. I didn’t want to pester you guys about this now during your time off, but it’s September now. We’ve only got a few short months left. It’s crunch time.”

Sidney and Jonathan nodded dutifully.

“We’ve been impressed with all the information that both of you have gathered so far,” he said this while looking more at Jonathan than Sidney, “And now we need you guys to work at overdrive. We have five months to put this intelligence together. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for us. Anything other than gold would be a national embarrassment.”

“I’ve worked really hard on my conditioning this summer,” Jonathan supplied.

“How about Kane?”

“Um… I have a notion that he spent much of it drinking beer and partying,” was Jonathan’s unconvincing reply. So basically he was lying through his teeth. Sidney couldn’t imagine why he would need to though; that sounded like a pretty apt summary of Patrick’s typical off-season.

Steve looked like he knew that Jonathan was lying, but didn’t press on further. He turned to Sidney. “And what about Malkin?”

There were a few pictures of Sidney and Geno together at the Stanfield International Airport that had made it on the internet. He had to navigate this delicately. “We were just training together. Just training. We weren’t doing anything else. Um, Andy was there too. So yeah. Geno feels really good though. I mean, I don’t know what he feels like. He looks like he feels good. I mean, he told me. He’s… good.”

Jonathan gawked while Steve had his eyes narrowed. Sidney needed a subject change quick. His hands scrambled for the menu. “I think I’m going to order the boner ribs…”

 

Training camp, the pre-season and the regular season were basically spent the same way the first couple of months when he and Geno started that… thing. Meaning that they played a lot of hockey, and had a lot of sex. Geno had a big house not far from Mario’s. No one could hear them.

He knew, undeniably, that he was in love with Geno. Maybe Taylor had caught on first, but what did a fourteen year old know about love? He’d spent months trying to qualify it and finally he’d understood. He’d never been in love with anything except hockey and he knew how strong the pull was. Being away from Geno was like being away from the rink. He yearned for his warm caresses like the sharp rink air, the glide of skin on skin like blade on ice, the burn on his hips as he thrust against Geno desperately like the burn in his legs as he gained possession of the puck… well, he didn’t have to go into it ad nauseum, but in Sidney’s head they were nearly identical. It was a thrilling and terrifying realization.

It got to the point where he just gave up with Steve. He’d exhausted his well of bullshit and he didn’t really give a fuck either.

“There’s nothing left for me to tell you.” That was definitely a lie, but Steve didn’t have to know that. “The we can pull off gold with good, honest scouting. I think we have enough depth even without.”

Steve huffed so loudly on the other end of the receiver that Sidney pulled back. “Don’t you remember 2006? That was your so-called good, honest scouting. We have to do everything in our power to avoid that. I’m not going to let it happen, end of story.”

“That’s fine. I’ll do my best to help you, with my hockey. That’s all I can do at this point.”

“I’m telling Mario,” Steve said with no lack of desperation.

Steve did tell Mario. They talked about it during their next meeting.

“Nice of you to spend the night with us once again,” Mario was his opening remark for the session. Sidney willed himself not to blush and failed miserably. “We’ve missed seeing you here.”

“Well, you know,” Sidney twisted his fingers in his lap. “I was, uh, doing a lot of research.” Mario chuckled. “But I told Steve that I couldn’t do this anymore and he told me that he was going to tell you what I told him.”

“Yes, he did tell me, and I told him that I would talk to you about your obligations with the CBA.”

Sidney stiffed. “Okay.”

“Yeah. So we are talking now.”

“Uh huh.”

Mario picked up his mug of tea, blew on the top and took a slow sip. After he was done he set the mug down carefully and placed his hands over the balls of his knees before standing up. “Okay. Thanks Sid. That was a good talk. I’m glad we see eye to eye.”

 

“Parents coming next week. For Christmas They want meet you.” Geno just so happened to spring this on Sidney after he was recovering from what was a pretty spectacular blow job.

His eyes sprung open and he sat up with a groan. “But I’ve already met them.”

“True. But this time, they see you as… something else to me. Not just teammate.” It was difficult for them even after all these months to tread on what exactly they were to each other. They’d talked about it briefly so Sidney did know that Geno (presumably) that there hadn’t been anyone else since they’d started this so he supposed that made him and Geno boyfriends or something but just saying that out loud just sounded… dangerous.

Sidney sighed and plopped back down. Geno nestled in beside him. “I don’t even know why you had to tell them. It’s bad enough that Ovi knows.”

Geno’s head snapped up. “You think parents knowing is worse than Sasha?!”

“No! Well, sort of. Ovi’s a clown but at least he’s kept his mouth shut.” For the most part. “With your parents it adds… I don’t know. Pressure. Expectation.” A sense of permanency.

“Yes, but you important to me. That why I tell them. Not like with Ovi. That accident. But he not terrible friend.” The doubtful look on Geno’s face suggested otherwise. “With parents, Denis, I plan. Is part of me so need to tell them. And they always want know, and want to accept. Even if Russia not that open. Is good they come, Sid. Mean that they like you too. But what not to like, right?” He grinned and gave Sidney a swat on the butt.

Even though he wrinkled his nose and pushed Geno’s hand away, Sidney felt like an asshole.

No, he wasn’t the asshole, if Geno was bringing his parents into his Russian spying ways. If he was a Russian spy.

Sidney tried to stay out of the way as much as possible but accepted Geno’s invitation for dinner. They went out to what was probably the only Russian restaurant in Pittsburgh (at least, the only one that Geno had bothered to take Sidney… Russian food was okay he supposed, but he didn’t prefer it to other cuisines).

Mama and Papa Malkin didn’t know much English and Sidney knew even less Russian so Geno stood as the defacto translator. Besides that, there was a lot of smiling and gesticulating. Overall, it was a good dinner and not nearly as awkward as he had anticipated. He liked Geno’s parents, and if Natalia’s hug and Vladimir’s hearty handshake could be held as an indication, they liked him back.

Geno confirmed this during their next practice while they spoke quietly against the boards. “They think you too good for me,” he said with mock indignation.

It was quite high praise from anyone’s parents, let alone the parents of one of the best hockey players in the world. Sidney gave Geno a soft punch in the helmet and used the velocity to skate off, lest he give in to the urge to kiss Geno right then and there.

 

It was really easy to forget that Geno may or may not be a Russian spy with the easy way they bantered, smiled, fell into bed, passed the puck to one another, lived their lives together. It was too good to be true at times.

Alexander Ovechkin certainly did have a way of fucking things up.

“Sidney! How are you? Feel like I haven’t seen you in so long!” Ovi smiled widely and gave him a playful punch on the shoulder. It was the second last time in the NHL schedule that the two teams would meet before the Olympics. The media hype machine was in full force. Sidney approached the press cautiously but Ovi seemed to take it all in stride.

Sidney nodded to Ovi and offered a civil “I’m good thanks, and yourself?”

“Same old same old.” Leaning in closer, he added, “You and Zhenya still…” He smiled so widely that Sidney thought that his face might split open.

“Yes,” he said, rather defiantly. He wasn’t (that) ashamed of his relationship with Geno. He was proud of the fact that they’d won a Stanley Cup together. That sounded pretty bad-ass as far as he was concerned.

Ovi hummed. “How could you be so blind, Sidney? Someday you will see.” With that, Ovi tapped Sidney’s shin with the blade of his stick and skated off to join his teammates. Sidney mulled over those words before rejoining his own.

 

“Geno,” he said suddenly as they passed through the subject’s front door, shortly after the game and another small freak-out. “If you ever have anything that you need to tell me, you can. I’ll understand.”

Sidney had meant this to be an avenue for Geno to admit to his Russian spying. He didn’t care how good of an actor anyone was. It could have been part of a ploy, or maybe not. But he felt it, could read it in Geno’s eyes, in his touches, that there was something between them beyond what a Russian or Canadian hockey organization contrived. Geno could tell him the truth and Sidney wouldn’t even be that angry. He was willing to work through it. They’d talk through the trust issues and overcome them.

Geno ducked his head and looked at Sidney through his long lashes. “Seem obvious?”

Sidney nodded severely. “Yes. And if you didn’t know…” He let out a long exhalation. “Me too.”

The expression on Geno’s face looked despondent, like he’d known this whole time. Sidney wasn’t sure what to expect next but he certainly didn’t anticipate Geno’s face splitting into an ear to ear grin. He rubbed the balls of Sidney’s shoulders, then let his hands move up and tangle in Sidney’s hair. “I think to myself, when I see you, how not everyone fall in love with you? I just the lucky one you choose and love back.”

“I knew you were a—wait, what?”

Geno pulled back, the warmth of his hands against Sidney’s scalp gone. He was frowning. “What you mean, what?”

“You’re telling me that you love me?”

“Yes.” Geno looked frustrated. “Is not what we talk about?”

“No. I mean, maybe. I love you too but don’t you have something else you need to tell me?”

“Like what?” Geno pulled away, looking appalled. “I say I love you not enough? What else you want?”

This was a terrible conversation. Could he have a mulligan? “Geno, yes, I appreciate that. And I love you too. I think I’ve known that I love you for a while.”

“Then why you not tell me?!”

“Because I need you to admit something to me!”

“Admit what?!”

“That you’re a Russian spy!”

The shocked silence was at last broken by Geno’s laughter, which finally died down when he caught the serious expression on Sidney’s face. “Huh? I not understand.”

“Geno, you can tell me. Ovi’s hinted at it. Aren’t you working for some sort of Russian organization? Maybe for the purposes of bringing down the Canadian hockey team?”

Now Geno looked completely befuddled. It was not a terrible look on him, Sidney had to admit. “I really not understand. What you talking about, Sid? Explain to me. What did Sasha say?”

So Sidney explained the subtle insinuations that Ovi had left, along with the suggestion that Geno may have jumped onto Sidney quicker than a good Russian boy should. Geno listened to Sidney with no lack of incredulity and waited until he had finished talking before saying “I call Sasha now,” and did so despite Sidney’s urgent protests.

He put Ovi on speakerphone.

There was a quick exchange of Russian banter before Geno said bluntly in English “What you say to Sid?”

“Hi,” Sidney added meekly.

“What do you mean, what I said to Sid?” was Ovi’s reply.

Their continued conversation in English was clearly for Sidney’s benefit. “He say that you tell him I Russian spy?”

Ovi sputtered a few times before settling on “I did not! When did I say that?”

“Ummm…” Sidney said in the background while Evgeni angrily repeated Sidney’s story. He supposed that technically, Ovi hadn’t said anything of that sort and maybe, just maybe, that he had read too much into the words based on his own circumstances…

Shit.

“Sidney,” Ovi sounded genuinely reproachful. “I sorry if you not understand. It was joke! I was joking! Just make fun of Zhenya’s stupidness and ugliness!”

“Geno is not stupid or ugly!” Sidney interjected before he could check himself.

“Whatever you say! But I not saying that he Russian spy! How you think that?”

Sidney’s mind was racing. “I don’t know! Uhhh, it’s just that Russians always seem kind of… I watch too many James Bond movies okay? I thought maybe your Russian hockey team may have been using their players to bring down hockey players from other nationalities… or something.”

“What?” Ovi’s scream was so loud that it crackled over Geno’s phone speaker. “That’s crazy! What kind of country would do that to their players?!”

 

“Can’t believe you take Sasha seriously,” Geno said with a shake of his head as they settled into bed. “Good thing you pretty, Sid, because you not very smart.” He punctuated his statement by kissing Sidney’s neck and Sidney would protest, except for the hand moving under the sheets.

“Well,” Sidney murmured, trying not to get too distracted by the way Geno’s tongue was licking lower. “I don’t know him as well as you.” He groaned appreciatively as Geno cupped him and squeezed through his boxers. “A-and… you were so quick to go down on me that first time…”

Geno chuckled, pressing their noses together. “Since you complain, tonight I make you wait. Tease you longer.”

This really wasn’t the type of conversation he expected out of either of them during foreplay but he had to know. “Why did you, though?”

Geno stilled, expression easing from playful to serious. “Why did I what?”

“That first night. What made you want to…” Sidney hoped he wasn’t wincing but he really didn’t want to finish that sentence out loud.

“Say before, I like you, love you now.” His hand was moving again in the most distracting way. “Think about for long time. Never thought you want me back. But then you kiss me. Remember?”

Oh yeah. Sidney did suppose that he was the one that kissed Geno first. He didn’t dwell on the reason why though. Especially now when Geno was pushing Sidney’s underwear off while gliding his mouth down his chest. Then he really couldn’t think about anything else besides Geno’s mouth.

But as he laid in bed, long after they were sated and had cleaned up, with Geno’s arm draped around his waist, he was plagued by the notion that maybe he wouldn’t have kissed Geno had Dragon or even Steve hinted at the fact that he should be open to the idea. He probably wouldn’t have taken the time to socialize with Geno outside of hockey as often as he did, and that was probably what had precipitated his relationship with the man that he was in love with in the first place.

The fact that he slept well that night didn’t mean that the guilt wasn’t eating him up inside.

But he had to tell someone. Jonathan. He could talk to Jonathan. Finally!

“I got your text. What’s up?”

“So you know about your situation. With Patrick. Did you ever feel so guilty about it that you couldn’t help but admit what you had done?”

There was a pause on the other line before Jonathan exploded. “I had to! I couldn’t help it! We’re sleeping together!”

“You’re what? No way! You’re shitting me!”

“Why would I lie about that?”

“Remember all that bullshit you said to me about being to seduce more people than me? I thought you would have told me about something like this!”

Jonathan sighed, and in a small voice said, “Because it’s Kaner. It’s embarrassing.”

Sidney wasn’t sure what to make of that. Maybe Jonathan was ashamed of sleeping with another man, or his teammate, or maybe Patrick Kane really was embarrassing to be associated with. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, Geno and I are… you know.”

“In love?”

“…Yeah.”

Jonathan sighed again. “Sidney. How did we let this happen?”

“I blame the movies.”

“So I take it you haven’t told Malkin yet.” Sidney affirmed this. “If you really love him then you should. Because he deserves to know. And if he really loves you he’ll forgive you. When I told Pat he shat a brick. He wouldn’t talk to me for three days. But he came around. And Malkin seems more reasonable than Pat so I think you two will do all right.”

That was good advice. Captain-y advice. And he was right. Damnit. “If Patrick knows then what do you tell Steve when he calls?”

“Pat and I think of bullshit to feed him together.”

No wonder why Jonathan had done so well!

He told Geno everything. Geno freaked out at first and stormed out, which Sidney expected. He did the best that he could to let Geno know that he was ready to talk whenever Geno was. Eventually Geno came around and listened, told Sidney that he needed a bit of space so Sidney went back to Mario’s. Geno was ready to talk the next morning. Said that he didn’t really understand but that he was willing to try. Reaffirmed their love.

“Is crazy,” Geno said quietly. “But it help us, I think. Bring us together. In strange way.”

“Disturbing, really,” Sidney supplied.

“Yes.”

“I hated it at first. But I got you in the end so it’s not so bad.”

“Yes, better than gold.” Geno kissed the top of Sidney head before blurting “Toews and Kane? Really?!”

Sidney shrugged. “Please don’t mention it the next time we face them. I don’t think Jon likes to talk about it.”

But talk about it they did.

“Can we not talk about it?”

“Jon, you’re in love with him and you don’t want to talk about it?”

“Well then why don’t we talk about you then? So Sid, you usually pitch or catch?”

“I know what you are trying to do here Jon. But you gave me some good advice before. And I just want to try to return the favour.” Jonathan didn’t offer another snide remark so Sidney continued. “If you love him then it should be something that you want to share with people.”

“If I tell people this then they’ll laugh at me!”

“He can’t be that bad, Jon.”

“You’ve never seen him dance.”

“I…” Sidney let out a frustrated growl. “That’s not the point. The point is, you can’t hide something significant like this from other people. It’s just going to eat you up inside and you’ll never be happy until you can be open about this. People who care about you won’t stop caring just because you’re in love with a man—“

“Kaner.” Jonathan interjected.

“Whatever. Jon, would you say that I’m a pretty critical person?”

“No,” Jonathan snapped, clearly not interested in playing along.

“Well, I am. And I’m very selective. What I’m trying to say is that Patrick Kane is not the worst you could do. He’s an excellent hockey player and not entirely unattractive.”

“I guess. I mean, he’s definitely better-looking than Malkin.”

“Hey, come on, you know that’s not true.”

“You wanna lay some money on that, bud?”

Sidney didn’t even know why he bothered to help Jonathan.

 

The next Pens-Caps meeting consisted of a lunch date with Ovi and Geno. Apparently he wanted to give them his blessing and smooth over any lingering misunderstandings.

“Still crazy to think that,” Ovi said.

Sidney laughed nervously and in the corner of his eye he saw Geno turn away.

“Never understand why you two stay with each other. So many girls in world! Even for ugly guys like you two!”

“Where you win beauty contest, Sasha? Siberia?” Geno threw a breadstick at Ovi’s head.

“I very handsome. Girl come to me lots.”

“Even a blind squirrel finds an acorn,” Sidney rationalized.

“No, Sid. Girl is blind, if go with Sasha.”

“Even without my good looks I can still charm girls with my winning personality,” Ovi objected. “I do mean winning. Hockey winning. Hope to offend you both. Losers stay together, beginning to make sense. Can only have one number one. Number two can share.”

“Like we share Stanley Cup,” was Geno’s rebuttal.

“Cup, shmuck. You only win because I all by myself on my team. Hard to win when I carry team on my back alone.”

 

Sidney wasn’t surprised when he had been paired with Jonathan as a roommate in the Olympic village. They probably figured that he would be a good influence on Jonathan, being a similarly young captain with a younger core of players who seemed to be in a good position to make a cup run that year.

Jonathan set his duffle bag down before turning to Sidney with a raised eyebrow. “Actually, I sent Steve a request that we room together.”

Oh.

“Um,” he put his hands into his pockets and looked down as he shuffled his feet. “I’m, uh, thinking about taking your advice?”

“What advice?” Sidney blurted without thinking. Not smooth and definitely not captain-y.

“The advice you gave me about… Patrick. Telling people.”

“That you looooove him?” Sidney smiled widely.

“Shh! Not that loud!”

Sidney sat down on the bed further away from the washroom and folded his hands together in his lap, regarding Jonathan with his most captain-y look he could manage. “If you love him then you love him. You shouldn’t be ashamed. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. I bet the girls that he hooked up with before brag about it all the time. Who would be the first person that you would tell?” He thought for a moment. “Besides me I mean.”

“My mom I guess.”

“I’m pretty sure she would support you. You’ve become a successful professional hockey player and you’ve done her proud. I really doubt telling her that you’re dating a fellow successful hockey player will cause her to disown you. It’s a small adjustment in mindset that I’m sure your family would be more than capable of. You don’t want to hide your loved ones from your other loved ones. They will understand, if not immediately then eventually. If they don’t, which I really doubt, then they’re the ones with the problem, not you.”

Score! That was an awesome captain-y speech with a little profundity thrown in. He was getting so much better at this stuff.

Jonathan snorted. “Fucking cheeseball. Is that how you always talk?”

Sidney’s grin faltered. “Shut up asshole. You know what I’m saying is true.”

Jonathan had no retort to throw back. Instead, he turned around to unzip the top pocket of his duffle bag. With his back towards Sidney, he said “Let’s lay down some ground rules here. If you and Malkin are gonna fuck around then under no circumstances will you do that in our room. I don’t want to see that.”

“Fair,” Sidney said to Jonathan’s hunched over shoulders. “And you’ll have the same courtesy with Patrick?”

“’Course.”

Their last in-person meeting with Steve took place the morning after Canada had ousted Russia in the quarters. Before that Sidney had been seeing Geno pretty regularly (they had been discreet and Geno’s roommate had no reason not to believe that Geno had been bedding a loose girl or two in the Olympic village and on nights when his roommate had his own loose girl or two in his room they unfortunately with nowhere else to go had little choice but to part ways). But that night, Geno simply gave Sidney a hang dog look and said “Night Sid,” before stuffing his hands in the pockets of his coat and walking towards his room alone. It had hurt but had the roles been reversed he was sure that he would have been worse.

Steve brought them out of the way to a nice, private table at the Grand Hyatt for the purpose of discussing strategy.

“Very nice work, Sid.” Steve was, of course, talking about more than the game. “I doubted you when you said several months ago that you gave me all that you could but it worked.”

He caught Jonathan’s glare off the corner of his eye but tried not to flinch. It was true that he wasn’t producing as much as he’d like but did Jonathan really have to be an asshole and make his displeasure so obvious? “Thanks.”

“Slovakia should be no problem. Hell, their goaltender isn’t even a starter for his team, and he doesn’t have playoff experience. I really don’t think he’s any threat to us.”

“Montreal won’t even make the playoffs,” Jonathan said off-handedly, and Sidney couldn’t help but agree. Even if they did they would probably fall in four in the first round.

“Exactly. I’m not too worried about them. And Finland, whatever. Where we have to focus our attention is the American team.”

Sidney nodded. He saw Jonathan’s Adam’s apple bob in his otherwise placid expression.

“Jonathan, I trust that you will be pulling all the stops to help us?”

“’Course.”

“Good. Good. We only got one chance at this so we can’t fuck it up. I’m sure you both realize how important this is for all of us. We’re counting on you.”

On the cab ride back to the Olympic village Sidney drummed his fingers against his thigh before blurting “So what are you gonna do?”

Jonathan’s head swivelled to face the window. “About what?” he said mildly.

“About what Steve said? And about telling people?”

There was a pause long enough to be considered awkward before Jonathan replied. “I’m not going to do anything.”

But apparently that had been a lie because two days later he found Jonathan curled up in his bed with blood shot eyes. And Sidney, who had never been adept at dealing with other people’s emotions, wondered if he could pull off backtracking out of the room and feigning ignorance of the scene in front of him until he had managed to figure out the best captain-y speech.

“I told them.”

Damnit, Sidney had almost managed his way all the way through the door. “And… what happened?” he ventured gingerly.

“They told me that they support me and love me no matter what.” He buried his face against his pillow and let out a dry sob.

Then what the hell was wrong? “That’s great Jon! Why do you seem so God damn upset?!”

“Coz there are too many fucking emotions to deal with right now!”

The victory of being right was tainted the night they (barely) defeated Slovakia. Geno had come around, and later after Sidney had snuck into his room late at night apparently so did Patrick.

The creepy thing was that he hadn’t even noticed in the dark until he heard shuffling, a bang against the bed railing and a foreign voice whisper “Shit”. Sidney jumped out of bed and slammed the light switch up, half scared out of his mind.

Patrick was gathering his clothes off the floor literally looking like a deer in headlights. Jonathan was still in bed with his face buried in his hands.

“What the fuck,” Sidney gasped, more surprised than angry. He scrubbed his face with his hands for lack of any appropriate place to settle his eyes in the room.

“Um, hi Sid, sorry,” Patrick laughed nervously, still getting himself dressed.

“Uh,” Jonathan said, hands now clutching the bed comforter over his chest. “I thought you’d be out all night.”

Sidney let his hands drop just in time to see Patrick zip up his jeans and smooth out his shirt. He clapped his hands in front of him and began backing out towards the door as a gesture of retreat. “Well, um, I’m gonna leave you two to it, but uh, I’ll see you at the gold medal game. Uh, and tell Geno sorry. You know, about his team.” With that, he bolted.

Sidney turned to Jonathan, incredulous. “You—the ground rules—“

“I know, I know.” It was just dawning to Sidney now how much like sex the room smelled like. It was atrocious. “But…” he grinned contently, disgustingly. “You know, he does make me happy. I feel better after telling them. You were right. I should have listened to you earlier.”

Oh. Well. Sidney supposed that he couldn’t be angry in the face of true love.

But still, it was disgusting and inconsiderate. He told Jonathan exactly that.

“Yeah, sorry.” Jonathan didn’t sound that sorry. “Tell ya what. You and Malkin can fuck here once to even it up. Just tell me in advance so I’m far, far away.”

“Geno and a few of the guys on the Russian team got a hotel room in downtown Vancouver to sightsee so he’s not here anymore,” Sidney snapped.

“Oh. So they don’t sit around here like the losers that they are.” Jonathan laughed.

“Shut up.”

“Well, too bad, so sad.” With that, Jonathan pulled his blanket over his head and turned his back to Sidney to sleep. Sidney rolled his eyes. Jonathan’s conduct was appalling. A guy like that wouldn’t be leading his team to the Stanley Cup anytime soon.

 

Winning the gold medal did not turn out to be the culmination of his life as a secret agent.

Sure, it was a once-in-a-lifetime experience. Sure, he’d scored the golden goal and was therefore a national hero in the eyes of his country for his timely ability to put a vulcanized rubber disc into a cage and net. Sure, he’d even lived out one of his childhood fantasies and had Steve thank him and Jonathan profusely for all the work they’d done for him. And sure, Geno had even come back from Vancouver to celebrate with him in his shitty Olympic village room (much to Jonathan’s chagrin).

It didn’t take him long to figure out what.

Geno had flown back to Pittsburgh earlier to resume on-ice practice while Sidney stayed with the rest of Team Canada for the closing ceremonies. He really was entirely uninterested in staying but it was one of his obligations.

One fewer obligation now.

“We did it,” Jonathan whispered into the dark on their last night in the Olympic village. “We did pretty fucking good, wouldn’t you say? Fucking done. Olympics, Steve, we fucking did it.”

Sidney turned to face Jonathan. “Sometimes I wonder if this is all a dream. A dream I never want to wake up from.” He closed his eyes and could already feel exhaustion beginning to overtake him.

“How did your parents react when you told them about Malkin?”

Sidney’s eyes sprung open. “Uh…”

He recalled that glorious captain-y speech that he’d given Jonathan in the Olympic village, the one that even Jonathan was smart enough to heed. He thought about what his parents would think and weighed his situation against Jonathan’s. Well, if Jonathan could do it then Sidney could do it too, right? Sidney had done a lot of things first and the competitive streak in him triggered annoyance on the part that Jonathan had told his family first. And at Sidney’s insistence.

He had to tell his parents. He was going to. He wasn’t going to tell Taylor though. She didn’t need to know about his love life and he didn’t need to know about hers (by which he meant that she was not allowed to have a love life, especially at her tender age).

“Mom, I have something to tell you,” he said over the phone after a brief discussion about the Olympics (which he was starting to get tired of talking about, not that he could tell anyone that).

“What is it, Sidney?”

He took a long inhalation. “I’m seeing someone. And… I’ve been seeing this person for a while. It’s kind of a big deal.”

“That’s fantastic Sidney! I wish you had told me earlier but I’m glad. Who is she? You know for years I thought that you might be gay.”

“It’s not—wait, why did you think for years that I might be gay?”

“Well, you never seemed all that interested in girls growing up and you wanted to be a hair dresser when you were younger. And your father and I never told anyone this, but when you were just learning how to skate you told your father that you wanted to be an ice dancer. So he gave you a hockey stick instead.”

It was information overload, but Sidney did manage a “I’ve dated girls before! I was interested in girls! But they just sort of… not as interesting as hockey I guess.”

Mom laughed. “It’s okay Sidney. You don’t have to convince me that you’re not gay. So tell me everything about this girl that you’ve been seeing for so long.”

Sidney was glad that this conversation was taking place over the phone because he had to take a moment to silently scream to himself before saying “It’s Evgeni Malkin.”

There was a pause on the other line so long that he thought that mom had hung up. “Uh, that name sounds pretty close to one of your teammates. If I didn’t know any better I’d swear that you said Evgeni Malkin.”

“I did say Evgeni Malkin. Geno and I have been dating for more than a year.”

There was another pause, equally as long. “This isn’t a joke, is it?”

“No mom. I’m serious. We…” He took a breath. “We love each other.”

Yet another pause, although this time much briefer. “I’m going to need a moment to digest this information. Oh honey, why did you keep this from us?”

“You still love me though, right mom?”

“What? Oh, of course Sidney. I would never stop loving you over something like this. But I’m going to have to talk to your father and call you back.”

This time she did hang up. Sidney set his phone back down gingerly and exhaled a long breath that he didn’t even realize he’d been holding.

It wasn’t even five minutes before it was ringing again.

“Sidney,” dad’s voice boomed over the speaker. “You have a lot of explaining to do.”

Sidney bit his lip and felt tears begin to well up in his eyes. “Dad—“

“Evgeni Malkin? Evgeni Malkin?!”

“Dad, I—“

“I hope you were careful.”

The bluntness of the comment caught Sidney off guard, but at least his father’s reaction was going into the direction of acceptance. All he could do to hope that a safe sex talk wasn’t coming next was pray. “Of course dad. I would never do anything stupid or dangerous.”

“Good. Because he’s Russian! What if you leaked out some confidential information to him and compromised Team Canada?!” Dad sighed. “But other than that, you could have done worse than him. He’s a fantastic hockey player, so good job Sidney, I’m proud.”

 

Zhenya shook Zinetula Bilyaletdinov’s hand and sat down at the small but pretentiously expensive restaurant in Moscow. It wasn’t a place that he would have chosen. He wouldn’t have come at all if the Russian coach hadn’t invited him, with earnest. For what reason, Zhenya had no idea why.  
“We’re still waiting for one more,” Coach Bilyaletdinov said.

Zhenya smiled agreeably and they conversed about their summer vacations. He told Coach Bilyaletdinov that he was having a good time in Moscow and enjoying himself. Truth was, he was anguished about Sidney and couldn’t bear to be apart from him. But with Sidney’s concussion, flying halfway across the world was definitely out of the question. He was already planning on flying into Halifax as soon as he could, but not so soon that it would draw suspicions or make Sidney’s parents uncomfortable by imposing too much. He hated himself for not having tried harder to convince Sidney to come over last summer when he could still fly. Or even Skype without experiencing headaches. It took every ounce of self-control he possessed every day to not jump onto the first flight into Canada and make his way to the man he loved.

“Zhenya?” Sasha approached the table, shaking coach’s hand first then slapping his rival’s shoulder. “What are you doing here?”

“Have a seat, Sasha,” said Coach Bilyaletdinov before Zhenya could reply that he had no idea, gesturing to the seat across from Zhenya. He smiled. “Why don’t we order first? We have a lot to discuss. Don’t be shy. The Ice Hockey Federation of Russia will be picking up the tabs.”

Despite coach’s insistence, Zhenya ordered something somewhat modest, as did Sasha. He tried to catch Sasha’s eye to glean whether the other man knew what the fuck was going on, but he looked just as perplexed as Zhenya felt.

It only took a few bites into their appetizers for coach to broach the subject at hand. “I’m sure you boys know that the Olympics in Sochi are fast approaching…”


End file.
